Sin
by Annonymous-Ace
Summary: Things can change in a heartbeat. Laine Everett was taught that from the moment she could walk, and she will come to know the truth behind those words better than anyone. A series of events spur her back into the life of hunting, setting her on a course of loss, heartbreak, and revelation. She tried to leave it all behind, but once a hunter, always a hunter. (Full summary inside.)
1. Chapter 1

_**Things can change in a heartbeat, and Laine Everett was taught that from the moment she could walk. As normal childhoods go, Laine's was far from what is considered 'normal'. Raised into the life of hunting from a young age, she grew up only knowing the faces of relatives and family friends, never her parents. Laine always knew she was different, but when she asked someone, they would brush her off. Eventually, she let it go and moved on with her life. A series of events turn the tables and spur her back into the life of hunting, setting her on a course of untold mysteries, loss, heartbreak, and revelation. She had tried to leave it all behind, but once a hunter, always a hunter. Yet, there is the chance that the events that are sure to come will reveal to her more than she could have ever hoped for. Things can change in a heartbeat, and Laine will come to know the truth behind those words better than anyone.**_

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**So, here you go, a new story. I hope that you enjoy this one, and let me know what you think. I'm hoping to be posting once every week, haven't decided on the date though. Anyways, please enjoy and leave comments and stuff. **

**Also, a special big thanks to my amazingly wonderful beta, The-blackfirewolf, for looking this over and all that jazz. I really appreciate it, and you guys should check out her stuff. She has a story in the works right now, and I don't know if she's posting it or not, but it is an absolutely wonderful read! **

**Without further delay, I present to you...Sin.**

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**Chapter 1: Mystery Girl**

The sounds ripping out of the demon's throat were painful to the ears, but Laine didn't flinch away, or even care for that matter. She needed answers, and by God, she was determined to get them, one way or another.

Turning away from her hostage, she fills another cup full of salt. "Are you ready to tell me who sent you?" She asks for what was probably the millionth time.

The demon just spits the crimson substance out of his mouth and smirks at her with blood stained teeth. "Why don't you go to Hell?" A loud exhale of breath comes from the woman's lips as she ambles closer to the humanoid creature, gripping his blood saturated hair and jerking his head up.

"That's funny, considering that is where you should be." She shoots back with a sneer on her face, her free hand grabbing his chin and prying his mouth open with a slight exertion of force.

A twitch of resistance from the man upsets the cup, the grains of salt pouring into his mouth and making him gag in vicious bouts when Laine clamps the orifice shut with a swift movement of her hand. "You know, if you just told me what I want to know, we wouldn't have to go through this." Laine divulges, leaning in close in a manner of one telling a secret, huffing loudly when the man simply chuckles.

"It won't matter anyway." He reveals, coughing up salt and blood before meeting the woman's eyes in a hard stare. "They will find you and you won't be able to do anything about it."

Grasping an iron poker stick, she twirls it in her hand for a moment before ramming it into his left shoulder. "Well if you would just spill some secrets, I could take that information and be long gone before they got here. But no," She twists the poker into an awkward angle, accentuating the words as she shoves it deeper. "I have to stay here and torture you."

More grunts of pain and discomfort fill the air, tainting it with their inhumane sound. As soon as it begins, it was over just as fast. She retracts the poker, blood flowing out of the wound, and sets it back down on the table before leaning close to the demon's face, hands resting on the metal chair behind his shoulders.

"Give me a name."

The demon gives a snigger and moves his shoulder in the best shrugging motion he could, mirroring her glower to a tee. "There's no point; you're out of time and they want you dead. You have no where to hide." He proclaims, a scowl forming on her face at his statement. The snickers of glee that left him made her want to bash his head in with a brick, but she restrained, albeit with much effort.

With a deep exhale, she pulls away and stands back, hands poised on her hips. "You're like a goddamn broken record." She states, running a hand through her mussed hair. "Are ya gonna tell me or not?"

After a few minutes of silence and Laine growling in aggravation, she finally concluded that she wasn't going to get any more out of him than what she already had, which was not much. The demon's eyes follow her with trepidation as the woman strolls away from him and over to the table that held all the tools she was utilizing on him. When she turns back around, she has a blade in her hand.

"You think that little thing is going to hurt me?" The demon guffaws, but soon falls silent at the sight of Laine shrugging in a nonchalant manner.

"Wanna find out?" Her voice holds no trace of sarcasm when she speaks, only seriousness. The demon sits there, black eyes trained on her in a disbelieving way. A sound ranging between a sigh and a laugh leaves her lips as she starts trailing the blade over the demon's visible skin. "You must not know much because if you did, you would know that an Angel Blade can kill a demon."

As the last words tumble off her tongue, she embeds the blade into the demon's chest, watching with narrowed eyes as the body lights up from the inside-out with an orange glow before flickering out, the meat suit going limp.

Laine removes the blade and wipes it on the man's jacket, the blood transferring from the metal to the jacket. Setting it back on the table, she gets to work cleaning up the mess in the room. Burning the body was the first order of business.

She briskly runs her fingers through her hair, pulling it into a high ponytail in the process. Once it was secured and out of her face, she begins untying the dead body from its bonds. The body sags forward in the chair, almost falling to the floor but Laine catches it, hoisting it back up.

She had a good grip on the body's underarms and was dragging it toward the stairs when a ringing echoes through the concrete room. Dropping the body onto the floor, one curse was let out as she scrambles around trying to find the phone. Her eyes search the area of the room frantically, not seeing any sign of it, until a red lightblinking out of the corner of her eye snags her attention.

She turns her head to the right, catching sight of the phones screen reflecting off of the Angel blade that was next to it. Reaching over, she flips the small device open and holds it to her ear, answering it with a simple, "Hello?"

"Laine? Is everything all right? You seemed out of sorts on your message." Bobby's gruff voice drifts through the phone, causing a breath of relief to escape the girl's lungs.

"Oh my god, Bobby. Thank you for getting back to me." She babbles, a large weight lifting off her shoulders now that he was returning her calls.

"What's going on?" Bobby asks, getting straight to the point. She didn't call often and when she did, it was usually something important.

It takes her a few moments to reply, and when she does, her voice is hushed, almost cautious—as if someone might be listening in on another line. "I think they've found me again."

Even with that simple and extremely vague sentence, it causes Bobby to exclaim a silent curse in frustration and fear for the girl's safety. "How can you be sure?"

A strained laugh sounds from the opposite line. "I just tortured a fucking demon for information on them. He was working for them and from what he was saying, it sounds like they have already found me."

There is the dim sound of Bobby sighing, like he had pulled the phone away from his ear, before his voice is loud and clear once again."This isn't good."

"You think?" Was Laine's instant, and somewhat snappy, response.

"Don't sass me girl." Bobby warns, but says it in with soft tone.

"Sorry." The girl murmurs solemnly, regret bubbling in her gut for snapping at the one person she could count on to help her. "What do you think I should do?" She questions after a few moments of silence from the other end.

Bobby continues the silence for a while before replying. "The best place for you would be with people that can protect you, so that's where you need to be." Laine goes to protest, but Bobby interrupts her and continues. "But you can't travel here alone; they will take that as a chance to scoop you up."

"Bobby, I've travelled alone before so I'm pretty sure I can manage the drive." She tries to tell him but Bobby just shuts her down, insisting that it would be better if she didn't travel alone, not taking no for an answer.

Carding a hand through her hair, she lets out an exhausted sigh, the defeat evident in her voice. "So how do you suppose I get there?"

"I have a couple boys out in your area now on a hunt. I'm pretty sure that they're just finishin' up and can be out there by the end of today. I'll give them a call and let them know what's going on." Bobby explains, the sound of rustling carrying through the phone.

"Thank you, Bobby. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

"It's what family's for." Were Bobby's last words before the line went dead.

Flipping the phone shut, she tosses it back onto the table alongside the torture tools. Her eyes drift over to the body lying motionless on the floor, a loud puff of air leaving her lips.

"Now for the fun part."

* * *

"Dean, you can't be serious." Sam exclaims as the Impala flies down the road at a steady pace into the quiet town.

"Hell yeah, I am. Bobby wants us to get this chick and that's what I plan to do." Dean replies, his hand flicking out to change the station on the radio.

Another sigh slips from Sam, his head shaking lightly from side to side. "It's the middle of the night for crying out loud! Can't this wait till morning?"

Dean's eyes flit over to look at his brother, sending him a glare before he grumbles, "Fine, where's the nearest motel?"

After a few minutes of driving through the town, they eventually pulled into the parking lot of a decent looking motel. The Impala rolls close to the entrance of the front office before Dean lays his foot on the brake, unlocking the doors.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a wad of money—money he won from his last poker game—and hands it to Sam. "Go book a room." He orders.

"Where are you going?" Sam asks as he climbs out of the car.

"I need a drink."

Shutting the door, Sam leans down and looks through the open window. "Dean..." Sam starts but Dean sends him a look telling him to drop it.

"I just need a drink, I'll be back later." With that said, Dean shifts gears and gets ready to pull away.

"Okay." Sam nods as he steps back, watching as Dean drives out of the parking lot and onto the busy street.

Once he was on the road, he cranks the volume on the stereo and starts nodding his head in time with the music, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. His eyes scan either side of the street, looking for a sign that would promote a bar or something, any place that he could get a decent drink.

After a few more minutes of driving down the crowded street, his eyes catch sight of a neon sign that was hard to miss. As the Impala crawled closer, he could see a single block word sitting on the sign; Glow.

"Why not?" Dean mumbles as he turns the wheel, the car jutting upwards as it rolls over the curb and into the parking lot of the club. Once the Impala was parked in a stall, Dean twists the key in the ignition, listening as his baby rumbles asleep.

He flings the door open, steps out and swings the door shut behind him, fixing his jacket in the process. With a final look over the building's exterior, Dean makes his way over to the door, which was guarded by a burly man in a black t-shirt and darkly tinted Aviators.

"ID." The man mutters as his gaze fixes on Dean, the stare penetrating through the dark glasses. Reaching into his back pocket, Dean pulls out the fake ID he usually has on him, flashing it in the other man's face. The guard's eyes scan over the card before he nods, opening the black door. "Go ahead."

Shoving his ID back into his pocket, Dean walks through the door and into the club.

All around him there were bright strobe lights, loud music and dancing girls. A small smirk works its way onto his lips as he manoeuvres through the sea of bodies on the dance floor, trying to make his way over to the bar.

Clubs weren't his scene; he much preferred bars – those played decent music, not shitty techno – but he desperately needs some hard liquor in his system, and fast. He finally emerges from the swarm of humans and finds a vacant bar stool, taking his seat. His eyes begin to wander around the club as he waits patiently for one of the bartenders to come and take his drink order.

After a few moments of sitting there, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Yanking it out, he flips it open to see it was a text from Sam, telling him the motel room number. Dean goes to type his reply, but notices a presence in front of him.

Looking upwards, his eyes land on a very beautiful woman who had a dazzling smile gracing her lips. Dean feels himself smirking as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth, his eyes doing a quick once over of the woman.

"Well, hello there." Dean greets, meeting her dusk blue eyes.

"What can I get for you?" She asks as she leans on the counter separating the two of them.

"Can I have a tall glass of you?" Dean jokes, watching her face become heated with a soft blush. Her gaze casts downward quickly before flicking back up to meet his, her smile now more shy but still as dazzling as before.

"Very funny, mister." She laughs as she shakes her head, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders.

Dean laughs with her and flashes a smirk. "I'll have a beer."

The woman nods and begin filling up a large glass, placing a napkin down first then quickly followed by the brimming cup. "First one is on the house for newcomers."

Dean gives her a puzzling look as he takes the first sip of his draft. "How do you know I'm not from here?" He asks as he folds his arms in front of himself, resting them on the counter top.

"Honey, I've lived here for a while; I know who's new and who's not. Besides, you don't look like everyone else here." She admits as she starts filing up another glass.

"I'm that obvious, huh?" Dean smirks, his gaze following her closely as she slides over the top of the bar and sits down on the stool next to his.

"Yup." Pulling her drink towards her, she takes a swig and then sets it down. "So, what is a handsome man like you doing in Holland?"

Dean laughs softly then shrugs, his eyes transfixed on the woman's finger that was tracing the rim of her glass. "Just passing through, thought I'd stop for a drink."

The woman smiles, almost as if approving his answer. "Well, you picked the right place."

"Seems like I did." Dean smirks over at her as he lifts his glass to his lips.

"Are you here alone?"

Dean looks up at her over the rim of his glass, shaking his head. "No, I'm road tripping with my brother. We're actually on our way to pick someone up." He admits, taking another swig of his drink.

The woman nods and follows his example. "Who is it?" As soon as the words slip from her mouth, she lets out a nervous chuckle and shakes her head. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry. It's none of my business."

"Hey, it's alright. No harm in asking." He reassures her, flashing a lazy grin.

The two lapse into a comfortable silence, the questions completely forgotten about as they finish off their drinks. Once the glasses were dry, the woman grabs both of their glasses and pushes them to the side. "I think we need something a little stronger."

With that said, she leans over the top of the counter. After staying there for a few seconds, she flips back up and sits down onto her stool, holding two shot glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other.

"You okay with tequila?" She asks, setting the two shot glasses down. When Dean nods, she starts filling the glasses up. "What's your name?" The woman questions as she holds the glass out to him.

"Dean, yours?" He replies while taking the offered drink.

"Laine." She flashes him that dazzling smile again. "Well, Dean, I officially welcome you to Holland." The two clink glasses together softly before bringing it to their lips, throwing the liquid down their throats.

Dean clamps his mouth shut and swallows, humming contentedly at the burning sensation caused by the hard liquor. "Another?" Dean suggests as he slides his glass towards her.

"Of course." She agrees, refilling both their glasses without hesitation.

The pair down a couple more shots of tequila, with Dean telling stupid jokes and Laine laughing at every one of them. She starts to pour another round when a woman in a red and black dress walks up to the bar, staring over at Dean with a sensual grin plastered on her make-up caked face.

"Oh, and who might you be?" She hums while her eyes roam across him once, daring to run a hand across Dean's shoulder.

Before Dean has time to respond to her question, Laine was flashing the woman a dangerous look. "Vanessa, leave him alone. He doesn't need to be tormented by you. Go find someone else to put your claws in." She snaps, the other woman jumping slightly at her tone before brushing it off with an upturn of her nose.

"Whatever. It's your turn on the floor anyway." She sneers as she flips her hair over her shoulder, turning on her towering heels and sauntering away, soon stopping to talk to another club patron.

Laine gives a nervous laugh and finishes filling their glasses, passing Dean's back over to him. "Sorry about her, she can be quite pushy sometimes."

"It's fine, I get it a lot." Dean admits as he throws his drink back.

"I bet you do." Laine mumbles before downing her shot, not leaving any room for him to reply to her comment. With a little shake of her head to clear her fuzzy mind, she places her glass down and stands up with a sigh. "Looks like it's my shift."

"You're leaving?" Dean asks, watching as she reaches behind the bar once more for something.

"I'm not just a bartender around here." She jokes as she grabs his now forgotten napkin and begins scribbling something onto it.

Setting the pen down, she brings the paper to her lips and kisses it softly before placing it in front of Dean. "It was nice to meet you, Dean." She smiles before turning away and walking into the crowd.

Once Dean couldn't see her anymore, he casts his eyes towards the napkin on the counter. He picks it up and brings it close to his face, trying to get his eyes to focus on the writing in the dim lighting of the club.

Soon enough, he could make out the black writing and could see that it was a phone number, with the print of her red lipstick below it. In little than an hour, he had the phone number of a very hot woman in his hand. Score one for Dean.

He holds it tight in his hand as he stands up, placing a few bills on the counter before walking towards the exit of the club.

Once the cool night air hits his face and he could think straight again, he makes his way to the Impala. As he climbs into the driver's seat, he stuffs the napkin into his jeans pocket before plugging the key into the ignition. The car roars to life before settling into a soft purr, letting Dean know it was ready to go.

Changing the gears, Dean backs out of the parking lot and rolls onto the street, driving back into the direction of the motel. All the way to the motel, he couldn't stop seeing images of Laine flash through his mind.

Even once he was buried deep under the covers of the cheap motel bed and his eyes were drooping shut with sleep, he could still see her dazzling smile and bright eyes behind his closed lids.


	2. Chapter 2

**Decided to post the second chapter early. Hope you enjoy. Again, thank you The-blackfirewolf for beta-ing this chapter!**

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**Chapter 2: Mystery Girl….Revealed**

"Where the hell is this place?" Dean grumbles in irritation as they fly down the vacant dirt road.

Sam groans and brushes his hair away from his face, slowly losing his patience with Dean since he was complaining every two seconds. "Bobby said to head straight out of town on 58th street until you reach Old Allegan road, then turn right-"

"Just give me the damn map, tour guide." Dean snaps, snatching the map out of Sam's hands.

Dean soon gives up on juggling looking between the road and the map, instead pulling over and fully putting his attention on the map. Dean finds the red line on the map and follows it down to the red circle that meant the spot they were supposed to end up.

Nodding, he tosses the map back to Sam and pulls back onto the road. "Is Bobby just leading us out here so we can get lost and he'll never have to see us again?" Dean mutters after taking another right turn.

"You're hilarious." Sam retorts, shaking his head at his older brother.

"I am the one who got the humour gene is this family."

Sam lets out a breath and looks over at Dean out of the corner of his eye before looking down at his phone. "Jerk." He grumbles, his finger scrolling over the screen.

"Bitch." Dean counters easily, silencing the conversation. The rest of the car ride was filled with silence, except for Dean asking for an occasional reminder of where to turn.

After about another fifteen minutes of driving, the boys had finally reached their destination. Well, that's what they were hoping.

Stopping the Impala, the two climb out and look around. "Where's the house? There should be a road here." Dean exclaims, his eyes flitting around him in an attempt to find something; all he saw was trees, trees and guess what, more trees.

As if on cue, Sam's phone starts ringing. Fishing it out of his pocket, he places it to his ear. "Hello? Oh hey Bobby...No, we're not lost, we just can't find the house…Behind us…There is nothing there but trees…What do you mean?" Sam turns around on instruction from Bobby. "Okay, I see trees…Red ones…Got it…Thanks, Bobby." Sam says before ending the call.

"What did he say?" Dean questions, watching as his brother takes the few steps over to the tree line. "Dude, hey, what are you doing?"

"Just hold on." Sam calls back as he disappears into the trees, literally. He just walked straight through a tree trunk, vanishing into the other side. A few moments later, Sam's head pops back through the tree trunk. "Secret entrance." Sam lips twitch up in appreciation and awe as he motions for Dean to drive through.

"Awesome." Dean whispers as he climbs back into his baby and drives through the fake trees. When he was past the screen, he could see a long stretch of gravel road and the shape of a house off in the distance.

"It's just up ahead." Sam instructs as he slides into the passenger seat. With a nod, Dean pushes his foot down on the pedal and the Impala flies down the road, leaving gravel and dust clouds in their wake.

* * *

Turning the water off, I step out of the shower and grab a towel off the counter, wrapping and securing it around my body. I pick up the second towel and begin wrapping it around my hair as I exit the bathroom, making my way over to the adjacent walk-in closet.

As I enter the fair-sized room, I run my fingertips across the different materials of clothing, my eyes roaming over every item in a search to find something to wear. Eventually, I settle on a pair of dark wash jeans and a black scoop neck t-shirt, dropping my towel to begin getting dressed.

I was making my way downstairs and towards the kitchen to find something to eat when the doorbell rings, my feet stopping right where they were. Why would the doorbell be ringing? More importantly, how? No one knew I was out here and no one knew how to get to my house anyway; well besides a few of the hunters I know.

My senses fly into overdrive, immediately switching to hunter mode. I dart into the kitchen, sliding open a counter drawer and pulling out a handgun, flicking the safety off. With my gun raised at my hip, I tread my way cautiously to the door. My free hand reaches out and grasps the door handle, my mind torn between whether to open the door or not.

With my mind made up, I slowly pull the door open. Once I could finally see out of the crack between the doors, I saw two men standing there. Two very familiar men.

I swing the door open fully, my eyes flitting between the two men towering before me. "Hello, Sam and Dean." I greet as I place the gun on the small table by the door, the safety back on.

"How do you know who we are?" Dean question, his eyes narrowing and his hand reaching into the folds of his jacket; probably itching to grab a gun that was definitely there.

"Do you really think I wouldn't know my childhood best friends when they're standing right in front of me?" I deadpan, a hint of a smile forming on my lips. Sam's eyes widen slightly at my statement, his defensive stance falling from his form as remembrance flits around on his face.

"Laine? Is that really you?" He questions, his brown puppy dog eyes lighting up. I nod once and before I can say any more, I am scooped off my feet and into a big bear hug.

"Can't breath, Sam." I choke out as I hug him back. Sam laughs sheepishly before setting me back down on the ground.

"I can't believe it's you. It's been so long." Sam states as he looks me over, a bright smile warming his features.

"Six and a half years to be exact." I reply as I look over at Dean, who surprisingly hasn't said anything at all. "Are you just going to stand there and not say hi? Can I at least get a hug?"

Dean steps forward and tugs me into his arms, enveloping me in a tight hug, his chin resting atop my still damp head. "Ugh, you're hair's all wet." Dean complains as he backs away from me.

"I was just in the shower, so of course my hair will be wet." I state with a shake of my head, motioning the boys in so I could shut the door. "Come on in guys, I was just about to make some lunch."

The boys had insisted on doing tests to make sure I wasn't anything but me, so we did that, then I got to making some sandwiches for us. Lunch was ate in the main room and soon after we were finished, we got talking about how Bobby had sent them. After that, the conversation somewhat died so I figured it was a good time to bring up last night.

"So Dean, did you enjoy your first night in Holland?" I say, casting my eyes towards Dean with a serious face, holding back the grin that wanted to be there instead. Last night was...entertaining, in a word, especially with Dean not recognizing me.

"How do you.… You were the bartender." Dean states, realization flashing through his eyes. I nod with a small laugh escaping my lips.

"I'm surprised you didn't catch onto who I was. I'm quite disappointed, actually." I scold, laughing even more at the irritated look on Dean's face.

"How was I supposed to know?" He exclaims defensively, and I just raise an eyebrow and give him a 'really?' look, which stops his blubbering.

"You've….changed a lot since the last time we've seen you." The way Dean accentuated 'changed' and the way his eyes seemed to roam over me for a split second sent shivers up my spine, for a reason unknown to me.

No one spoke for a few moments, the air becoming tense with something unidentifiable. The sound of Sam clearing his throat loudly breaks the tension, causing Dean and I to both look over at Sam. "I was wondering, Laine, how did you hide the road to your house?" The younger Winchester asks, genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

"Oh, that. It's just a hologram program I installed. It hides my house from the sky and the road. It's like one way glass. Just one of my many tricks I acquired over the years, this one I learned from a college buddy of mine." I shrug, my eyes narrowing slightly as I hear Dean say something about how he was surprised I went to college. "Yes, Dean I did. If you guys knew how to pick up a phone and call once in a while, maybe you would know that." I accuse as I stand up from the couch.

At my snappy answer to his almost silent statement, Dean looks up at me and mumbles a 'sorry'.

"Where are you going?" Sam asks as I begin walking out of the living room and towards the front of the house, where the stairs were.

"Showing you guys where you'll be staying while you're here." I reply, which only earns me confused looks. "There are a couple things I need to do before we go meet up with Bobby, so for now you can stay here."

Sam looks as if he is about to protest, but I quickly cut him off with a pointed look before he can even form the words. "You are my guests and you deserve to have decent sleeping arrangements for a few nights." I state as I turn and walk out of the living room and up the stairs, the boys following me shortly after.

* * *

Once I had shown the boys their separate rooms—which they were ecstatic about—I told them that they could bring their stuff in while I went and finished getting ready to head.

I had just stuffed some things into my purse when I hear a soft knock on my door. Turning around, I see Dean standing in the doorway. Sending him a soft smile, I motion him into the room.

His eyes flit over to my purse before focusing back on me. "Where are you headed off to?" He asks as he looks around my room, his fingers trailing across the top of my dresser.

"I have to pick some things up from town and also do a couple things." I explain as I pull my leather jacket onto my arms, pulling my hair out from under the collar.

"What things?" Dean questions as he steps out of the way of my dresser so I could grab my phone off its surface. Shoving it into my pocket, I grab my purse off my bed and make my way out of my room.

I let out a quite laugh, shaking my head, dismissing his question. "Things." I could feel Dean's eyes on me as I walk down the stairs with him trailing after me like the nosey person he was. Grabbing my keys from the table by the front door, I reach for the doorknob and open it.

"Why so secretive?" Dean asks as he follows me outside, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm not being secretive, I'm just choosing not telling you. There's a difference." I state, walking over to my truck and pulling the door open, sliding into the driver's seat. Plugging my key into the ignition, I give it a good twist and wait for it to start up. When it doesn't, I twist again, only to get another sputter of the engine.

"There is not." Dean counters my previous statement, which earns him a hard look from me.

"The hell?" I mutter when it stalls for a third time, the engine refusing to start up.

"Seems like your battery is dead." Dean mumbles plainly, leaning on the door frame.

Sighing, I climb out of my truck and slam the door shut. "Fucking vehicles." Brushing my bangs away from my face, I look up at the sky, trying to remember if I had a spare battery laying around. "Fuck."

"What are you getting all pissed about?" Dean looks at me, watching as I kick a rock that was larger than the rest.

Turning my gaze on him, I jab my thumb at the stupid truck next to me. "Fucking vehicle died and I don't have a spare battery, so I'm stuck here. That's what I'm pissy about." I huff, leaning back against the body of the black Chevy.

"Did you not notice the beautiful car parked a few feet away?" He asks while pulling his keys out of his pocket and waving them in front of me.

I reach out to grab them, my fingers grazing the metal of the keys, but Dean moves them just out of my reach, chastising me for my attempt. "Dean…." The corner of his mouth twitches at my plea and I huff in response, shoving my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.

Dean laughs, smirking down at me. "That should come out of your mouth more often, just in a more appropriate setting." He states, gauging my reaction all the while smirking deviously, and keeping the keys out of my reach.

I go to snap back at him for his sexual remark, but instead decide to turn his game against him. Taking a step closer, I start to run my finger up and down his chest.

"Isn't this setting appropriate enough?" I tilt my head to look up at him, darting my tongue out to wet my lips in a swift motion. Dean's body went rigid as my fingers ghost over the buckle of his belt, before travelling back up his chest, his eyes not leaving mine for a second.

Dean swallows slowly, his Adam apple moving with the motion. "Well, I just assumed you were more lady-like than that." He manages to get out, which was very unusual for Dean. Even when we were younger, he was always good with the ladies and knew exactly what to say. Right now, he looked as if he didn't have a clue in the world. This game was yielding better results than I could have hoped for; I had Dean practically speechless, which was a big ego boost for me.

"You're wrong." I murmur, my unoccupied hand slithering behind his back and grasping at where the keys were. My fingers come into contact with the cool feel of the metal, quickly wrapping around them and tugging them out of his slack hand. "Thanks Dean."

Dean looks at me in confusion before his gaze travels down to my hand, which was now holding the keys to the Impala. His head whips up and his eyes latch onto me, but before he can catch me, I am already hopping out of his reach.

"Damn, Dean. You need to keep you guard up better. I thought you were a hunter?" I tease as I skip over to the Impala, twirling the key ring on my pointer finger, a triumphant grin on my lips.

"Laine…. Give them back." Dean growls as he walks after me. Looking over my shoulder, I catch sight of Dean's expression, which was bordering on murderous. I flash him a quick smirk before picking up my pace, the gravel crunching loudly beneath my boots.

Just as I had the car door open and was about to climb in, a hand grasps my shoulder, flipping me around and pinning me to the car.

Looking up, I see Dean towering over me with his arms on either side of me as a form of cage. Maybe if I just-

"Don't even think of it." Dean threatens, interrupting my escape plan thoughts.

"Come on, Dean. Just let me take the Impala. I need to go to town, it's important." I grumble, holding the keys behind my back.

"No, now give me the keys. You are not driving my baby." He replies firmly.

"Dean, it's not like I'm going to crash her or anything. Just let me take her, I won't be gone long." My tone is just as hard as his was when I give my response, not backing down from this.

"Laine…." Dean grinds the word out, his face hovering dangerously close to mine. Still not backing down, I lock my stare with his and hold it, my stubbornness getting the best of me.

"Dean…." I imitate.

This goes on for a while, with us just staring each other down in hopes the other would cave in. Someone clears their throat—quite loudly, might I add—causing Dean and I to jump apart, with me cursing under my breath when I hit my elbow on the car door.

Standing on my tiptoes, I look over Dean's shoulder to see Sam standing there, his brown eyes wide and confused.

"Uh, I was wondering where you guys had disappeared to, but I guess I've found you." Sam mumbles, standing awkwardly a few feet from us, his eyes darting between his brother and me.

I go to start saying stuff about how it wasn't what it looked like and all those other things you say when you're caught in a compromising situation, but Dean was already opening his big mouth.

"Just gonna give Laine a ride to town. We'll see ya later, okay Sammy?" Dean explains before climbing into the driver seat of the Impala.

"Yeah….uh…" I start, giving Sam a cheeky, and what I was hoping was reassuring, smile. "I just gotta run a few errands then we'll be back. You can check out the library if you want." I state as I also climb into the car.

"Yeah, okay. I'll be inside…." Sam mumbles as he starts heading back to the house.

Strapping my seat belt on, I let out a nervous laugh and throw Dean a small grin. "Well, that was awkward."

Dean laughs and grins back, biting at his bottom lip. "You got that right." With that said, Dean shifts gears and starts driving out onto the gravel road.

* * *

"The post office? Really?" Dean questions as we pull up in front of a small white building.

With a quick nod, I climb out of the Impala and start walking towards the front door. I place my hand on the door handle and pull it open, walking inside. I walk towards the front desk and see a short, plump lady filing things into a cabinet.

"Hello." I say, resting my arms on the counter.

The woman jumps slightly before turning around, a kind smile shaping her lips. "What can I do for you today?"

"Hi, I'm here to pick up a package." I state simply.

"Okay, and what would your name be?" She asks as she walks over to the computer and starts typing something.

"Kory Hughes." A few more clicks on the keyboard and a couple raps of fingers on the counter, the woman was telling me to wait a moment before she scurried off to the back room.

Moments after, the woman returns with a petite manilla tag envelope in hand. "Here you are, miss." She says as she places the box down onto the counter in front of her. "I just need you to sign this release form and we'll be good."

Nodding, I take the pen in my hand and scribble down my alias' signature, sliding the clipboard back towards her. She looks it over, nods her head and hands me my package.

"Here you are, Ms. Hughes." She says with a smile.

"Thank you." I reply and turn towards the door, hiking my bag back onto my shoulder as I rip the top of the package off, scanning the contents briefly. Good, it was all here.

I walk down the front steps and towards the Impala, swinging the door open and sliding into the passenger seat.

"What did you pick up?" Dean inquires, his eyes darting between me and the package on my lap.

I give Dean a simple, "Drive," as I dump the contents of the envelope onto my lap. I start shuffling through the plastic cards, reading the names off as I went through the stack.

"Fake Ids?"

"Well, since I'll probably be getting back into hunting, I thought I'd need some new Ids." I explain as I sift through the cards until I reach the end, reaching into my purse to grab out my wallet so I could place the IDs inside.

When Dean looks over at me, he shakes his head and his lips twitch. "A gun too?"

Looking down at my lap, I see that the shaft of my gun was visibly poking out of my purse. "No, I always carry one in my purse." I shrug as I pull out the Glock, shifting it in my hand so it was sitting comfortably in my palm. "I got this one as a birthday present from a friend back in Russia."

"Don't you already have enough guns? You are a hunter and we do like to collect toys." Dean jokes, stopping when the light turned red and grabbing the gun out of my hands.

A small giggle escapes my lips at Dean's statement, a grin lighting up my face. "Dean, you can never have enough toys. Besides, this guy is an arms dealer so he has an abundance of firearms. So, if I ever want a new toy, they're always free for me."

"Free is always good." Dean agrees as he begins driving again, sliding through every intersection without any interference from red lights. "Is he a hunter?"

"I guess you could say that." I shrug, tracing a figure eight on the leather seat. "He knows about the things that go bump in the night, and he sometimes deals with cases, but for the most part, he just helps out us other hunters. He's kind of like Bobby in a sense."

Dean nods, accepting my answer and the conversation drops.

After about a good ten minutes, we were finally on the highway. Dean was switching the radio station about every twenty seconds and I was rapidly getting fed up with it. My last nerve was hit when he changes the station for the twentieth time, but before he has time to switch again, I was smacking his hand away.

"Dean, just pick a goddamn station already." I grumble as I rest my head on the cool glass of the window.

Dean huffs, but chooses to settle on a classic rock station. Nodding my approval, I shift a little in my seat and get comfortable, resting my hands in my lap.

We quickly lapse into a silence, the dull sound of Led Zeppelin playing in the background and the rumble of the engine lulling my eyelids shut. Just as my eyes are closing, I catch sight of a black van driving behind of us. Sitting up fully, I run a hand through my hair as I inspect the vehicle behind us.

Come to think of it, that van has been following us since we left the post office.

"Hey Dean, mind taking a look behind us?" I mumble, my eyes flitting between Dean and the side mirror.

"Huh? Why?" Dean questions, but complies none the less. "Yeah, black van. So what?"

Sighing in frustration at his stupidity, I take one last look at the van before focusing on forming a plan. "When are black vans with no plates ever good?"

"You think they're after us?" Dean asks, speeding up a little but not so much as to make it obvious to our pursuers.

"They've been tailing us since the post office, so I wouldn't doubt it." I state as I pull my gun out of my purse and set it on my lap, just in case things went south. "Dean, where's your phone?"

Dean's look over at me, but nods his head down. "Right pocket." I reach over and go to slip my hand in his jacket pocket, but Dean stops me. "Pants pocket."

Huffing, I reach my hand down and into his pants pocket, but instead of feeling a phone I feel nothing instead. With a growl, I rip my hand out and shove it into his coat pocket, pulling out the small device.

"So not the time for this, ya asshole." I hiss as I sit back into my seat, pressing a button on the keypad and watching the screen light up. Scrolling through the contacts, I find the one I want.

"Admit it, you've always wanted to get into my pants." Dean taunts, smirking over at me.

Instead of playing into his hands by replying, I just ignore him and press the call button the phone. Pressing the phone to my ear, I wait as it starts ringing.

"Who ya calling?"

"Sam." I mumble as the ringing fills my other ear.

"Why not use your phone?"

"I don't have Sam's number, stupid." I flash Dean a look just as the line opens up.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Sam's voice carries through, sounding quite loud through the speaker.

Clearing my throat, I pull the device away an inch. "It's Laine. I need you to do something for me." I answer, hoping he would sense the urgency in my voice.

"Okay, yeah. What is it?" Sam asks.

"I need you to pack up some books from the library; the books I want are behind a black curtain and make sure you get the big red book. There should be some boxes in the hallway closet upstairs that you can pack them into. Also, in my room there should be a suitcase by the bed. Grab that." I explain, the sound of shuffling filling my ears. He must be getting to work already.

"What do you want me to do with all this stuff?"

"I would tell you to go outside and into the shed, but there might be people already surrounding the house. Hmm, once you get all my stuff together, grab yours and Dean's and head downstairs. There's a small closet in the stairs. Head in there and there should be a false panel; it should be easy to find." I go to continue, but catch sight of a worried look on Dean's face.

"Laine, you might wanna hurry up. I think they've figured out that we know that they're tailing us."

"Okay Sam, this next part is important. Open the false panel and follow the stairs down. It should lead you into a hallway, so follow it. You'll end up at a door with a key pad. The code is 2684. Once inside, lock the door and just stay there. We should be there in about 5 minutes."

"Okay, sounds good. See you guys soon." Sam says before ending the call. Slapping the phone into Dean's hand, I reach into my bag and pull the gun out.

"Ready?" I ask, sliding the top of the barrel back.

Dean gives me confused look, his right eyebrow quirking upwards. "What are you planning to do? Go at 'em guns a blazin'?" Dean enquires.

With a quick smirk to Dean, I flick the safety off. "Something like that."

* * *

Bodies.

Six bodies to be exact.

They were littered around us in misshapen figurations, all having one or more forms of wounds on their person. All of them were dead.

They weren't human, but they dropped just like any human would. One shot to the head or vital organ, and boom, game over.

My breath came out in shorts puffs as I wipe at my brow, removing the small bead of sweat gathering there. I reach down and wipe the blood on my knuckles and palms off onto one of the dead guy's jacket, cleaning off what I could.

Pocketing my gun, I look up to see Dean standing across from me with an approving look on his face.

"What?" I question, shoving my hands in the back pockets of my jeans.

"You're quite efficient." Dean praises as we make our way back over to the Impala.

My face screws up in confusion before a disbelieving smirk forms on my lips. "Wow, Dean actually knows how to give compliments." I tease, which quickly earns me a sharp look over the top of the Impala.

"I'm not that much of a jerk." His lips tug down at the corners as his face takes on the expression of a kicked puppy. It wasn't as good as Sam's pouting face, but it came up as a rivalling second place.

I contemplate his words for a few seconds, nodding my head side to side as I think. "No, but it's just...weird. You giving praises and all that stuff."

Dean vocalizes his response with a grunt at my response and climbs into the car, completely dropping the conversation.

"Dean…." Climbing in the passenger side, I sit down and turn to face him, confusion sweeping over me. When he doesn't answer, my bottom lips juts out in a pout. "Come on, Dean."

Still, he does not answer, just starts the engine and drives off.

"Dean." I mumble, my eyebrows knotting together. What's gotten into him? A few moments ago, he was all smiles and rainbows – well, as close as Dean could get to that – and now he was acting like someone took a piss in his Corn Flakes. "Hey, look at me."

Dean seems to hesitate for a second before slowly moving his eyes over, casting them in my direction. "What?" He questions, his gaze leaving me again.

Sighing, I turn and look at him fully, all traces of amusement gone from my face. "Look, I'm sorry if I said something I shouldn't have. I know you're not a bad person, despite all your experiences and life choices. However, we all have those, even me, so I can't really blame you. Dean, I would never think you were bad, not in a-"

"Laine, it's nothing you did." He assures me and I let out a breath. "I'm just thinking."

"Okay, good. I was worried that I ha-" I am cut off mid-sentence by a searing pain shooting through my head.

Dean seems to notice this for he gains a worried expression on his face. "Laine? Hey, you okay?"

I couldn't have responded even if I had wanted to; the pain was too much and blinded me from what was happening. I faintly remember Dean pulling the Impala over to the side of the road as nasty images flash behind my closed lids.

Clutching at my head, I massage at my temples in an attempt to relieve the agony, but it just seems to increase the amount of images flying before my eyes, their clarity increasing.

The door to the right of me is wrenched open and I am pulled over to the edge of my seat, hands cradling my face. "Laine? Come on, talk to me." Dean commands, worry lacing his tone.

I just sit there, shaking my head back and forth, trying to get rid of the pain and the images. A few moments pass, Dean still holding my face in his hands, when the images finally vanish, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"Hey, are you okay?" Dean asks after a second of silence, brushing a stray piece of hair out of my face.

It takes me a few breaths, but I am eventually able to give him an answer. "Yeah, I think so." I mumble, meeting my gaze with Dean's softer one. The look on his face…. I don't think I have even seen him like this before.

"Can you stand?" He questions and I just nod, taking his offered hand. Once I was on my feet again, I take a deep breath and rub my hands along my arms. "What was that?"

Shaking my head, I just sigh and look up at him. I go to tell him something along the lines of 'I don't know', but then a wave of images hits me and I am almost knocked off my feet.

Another shock runs through me as the images fly through my head, much faster this time, before disappearing and leaving me with my mouth agape.

Fire….blood….darkness….smoke….dead…..Sam….

"Laine?" Dean asks for what was probably the tenth time in the last minute.

"Dean, we have a problem." I state calmly, although I was anything but calm.

"Okay?" He presses, urging me to get the words out of my mouth.

"And we need to get back to Sam now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Here you are, my lovelies; Chapter Three! Enjoy, and let me know what you think. Thank you, The-blackfirewolf for beta-ing this, and thank you to all you magnificent readers out there! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Escape**

My heart was pounding in my chest, my knuckles turning white at the tight grip I have on the seat, and my head was spinning wildly, but I didn't care. I was terrified. I couldn't get the images out of my head and it was driving me crazy.

I could see everything clearly; the blood splatters covering every inch of available surface, the fire burning bright, the plethora of bodies scattered around on the ground, but the worst of them was the one of Sam.

His face was bloody and his eye black and swollen, the corner of his lip cut open and a large gash across his forehead. Beneath all that blood, his face was ghostly pale and he didn't look to be breathing.

My breath hitches as another wave of panic glides through me, causing me to clutch tighter to the seat and close my eyes, trying to wish the images away.

"Laine?" Dean's voice slices through my fear, jolting me back to reality.

It takes me a few seconds, but I eventually figure out how to do basic functions well enough that I could turn my attention towards him. Instead of replying, I just stare at him with scared eyes.

"Laine, I need you to tell me what you saw and why it's making you fucking shake." Dean demands, his gaze flashing over to me for a split second before returning to the road.

"I…" I begin, but the words catch in my throat. "There was blood... lots of it...and fire." The sentence comes out in broken pieces, my voice sounding odd to my ears. I try to continue, but my throat constricts and I stop speaking again, trying desperately to swallow the lump in my throat. Dean senses my hesitation, for the Impala was swerving over to the edge of the road, and seconds later we were parked on the shoulder of the highway.

Dean twists his body and rests a hand on the back of the seat, meeting his green eyes with my blue.

"You need to stop this now." He instructs, holding my gaze tightly. "You are a hunter, for fucks sake. We see scary shit on a daily basis, and yeah it might shake us up, but we deal. We don't let it get to us, 'cause if we do, we end up dead."

My eyes drop down for a second before rising again to meet his, my lips forming a frown. "Dean…." I try to stop his rant, but he just continues, shutting me down mid-sentence.

"No, you listen and you listen well. You are gonna stop freaking out and you're gonna screw you head back on tight. I am going to start the car again and we are going to go save Sammy's ass, okay? Now, grab your gun and start acting like the Laine I know." Dean finishes with a breath, his voice not losing any of its commanding tone.

Taking a deep breath, I nod slowly in compliance. "Sorry, Dean." I mumble with a roll of my shoulders, hoping to shake some of the tenseness out of them.

Dean inhales and leans back in his seat, turning the key and starting the engine. "It's fine. Just don't lose it on me again, okay?"

"I won't." I state as I load my gun, holding it securely in my still trembling hand. Dean was right, now was not the time to lose my head. I need to keep calm and focused if I want to survive and keep Dean and Sam alive as well. I couldn't do that if I wasn't thinking straight.

"Now, what else did you see?" Dean questions as we drive down the road faster than what the speed limit allowed.

I take a few calming breaths and block the images that were threatening to take over again, focusing my attention on Dean and the road ahead of us. "There were bodies, vampires maybe, and I saw Sam. He wasn't in good condition, but he wasn't dead." As I say the last part, some of the tightness in his shoulders visibly loosens and he lets out a quiet breath.

"Have you had these visions before?" He asks and I thank him silently for the small talk since it was effectively keeping my mind away from the images burned into my retinas.

"Yeah, but usually its just a feeling in my gut or a few flashes here and there, nothing like this." My fingers not holding the gun tighten in on themselves, the nails digging into my palm. "Bad part is, most times these things usually come true."

Dean stays silent for a few moments before he looks over at me with a quirk to his mouth. "Well then, let's go kill some sons of bitches."

A grin of my own appears on my face at his words and I quickly agree with him, pushing my fear to the farthest corners of my mind. "Let's."

* * *

"How many are there?" Dean asks when I slide back into the Impala, my legs hanging out the side of the open door.

Sighing, I throw him a quick frown. "From what I can see, about eight, but there could be more." I state, hesitating for a moment before asking my next question. "Do you think we can take them?"

Dean seems to think this over before nodding and climbing out of the vehicle. "What's a couple of vamps?" He teases as he props the trunk open with a shotgun before rummaging through the contents.

He leans back, two large blades in his hands. "Here you are." He hands me one of the blades, only letting go once I was holding it tightly. I twist and turn it around a bit, testing it out and getting a feel for the weapon.

Dean reaches back into the trunk and pulls out a couple of syringes filled with dark red liquid. "Dead man's blood." I say it more as statement than a question as I take the offered objects, but Dean still nods, pocketing two of the remaining syringes.

Dean closes the trunk and grips his blade tight. "Ready?" He questions, looking down at me.

"Ready." I reply as we start walking down the dusty road, gravel crunching beneath our feet.

* * *

From what I could count, there were eight vamps roaming about my property and probably a few scattered in the house. My eyes quickly jump over to the tree line when one of the vamps stationed there was pulled into the brush by their leg.

After a few seconds, I could faintly make out the shape of Dean sliding through the cover of the trees opposite of me. A small, approving smirk grows on my lips as another vamp slips into the darkness of the trees. Sneaky little bugger was taking them out one at a time. Once two more vamps disappear due to Dean, I figure that it was probably time to get my ass in gear.

Twirling the blade in my hand, I zero in on the blood junkie closest to me. It was perfect; he was mostly hidden behind my large truck which would allow an easy kill and cover from the other two fangs and the ones monitoring the area from the windows. I wait a few more moments before dashing out from the trees and over to my truck, creeping up behind the vampire.

"Hey, I'm kinda lost. Mind giving me some directions?"

At the sound of my voice the vamp turns around in a swift movement, his mouth quickly opening to reveal jagged fangs as he makes to lunge at me, but I stop him with the point of my blade pressing into his open cavern of sharp daggers.

"Sorry, I'm not really into the whole biting thing. Nice try though. Oh, I'm Laine by the way. Nice to meet ya." My blade moves from his mouth and into his neck, getting caught on the bone for a split second before sliding through in one clean swipe. Blood splatters outwards and I feel droplets land on my face as the sound of the now detached limb hits the ground, followed quickly by the large body.

Wiping the blade on my jeans to remove the blood, I crouch down to the ground and push the body and head under the truck, obscuring them from view. As I stand back up, I hear a deep chuckle resound from behind me.

Whipping around, I come face to face with a smirking Dean. "Not one for subtlety, huh?" He teases, his gaze travelling from me down to the arm that was poking out from under the truck.

A nervous laugh escapes my lips as I kick the arm back under with the side of my boot. "Of course not."

* * *

"Dean? Hey, Dean." I try to keep my voice low, but still loud and sharp enough for him to hear. I wait for a few seconds before something that sounded like a grunted, "What?" answers me.

A few seconds later, Dean pokes his head from around the corner and I grab a fistful of his jacket, yanking him towards me. "I'm gonna swing around back." I whisper softly, peering around us to make sure no one was going to attack when we weren't looking. "You should try and get to the shed, see if Sam is there and get the hell out of here.

"And leave you here? Hell no." Dean scoffs, his hands flying up to grab at my wrists.

Sighing, I wriggle out of his hold and place my hands on his shoulders instead. "Dean, I'm going to be fine. Just a quick in and out, nothing major." I explain, hoping to reassure him enough to let me go solo. It must not work as well as I would have hoped, for his hands are on me again, this time in a firmer grip.

"I said no. There is no way in Hell I am going to let you walk in there all by yourself." He growls with his eyes boring down into mine, leaving no room for argument.

"Dean... I can handle this." My voice is strong and my eyes are even harder. It's not like I wanted to take a leisurely stroll through Hell or anything, I just wanted to go inside my house for a quick second, but apparently for Dean, those things were classified under the same category of 'Never going to happen'.

Dean goes to argue with me, but the sound of a door opening and crunching gravel sounds from around the corner. "Shit." Dean mutters as his eyes dart around the surrounding area in search of cover.

Thinking quick on my feet, I do the first thing that comes to mind; grabbing Dean by the hand and dragging him into the small outdoor storage closet that was just a few feet behind us. We manage to squish inside of it, closing the door with a soft click and I grip the handle tightly, hoping that no one would try to open the door.

I turn a quarter ways around, managing to find myself pressed flush against Dean's front side. Shifting uncomfortably, I try to gain some breathing room between us, but I only manage to push us closer together. I could practically feel the grin that was itching to climb its way onto Dean's face.

"Well, isn't this romantic." Dean hums into my ear, the grin forming slowly, but surely. I quickly smack my hand over his mouth, silencing any more noises that might try to escape out of this man's mouth, as the sound of footsteps get closer.

We stay like that for a few more minutes, just to be safe, before I finally release my hand from over Dean's mouth. My eyes flick between Dean and the door and back again, contemplating when to open the door. After a few good deep breaths, I slowly lift the latch and push the door open, peering outside.

There was no one in the immediate vicinity, or at least from what I could see. Taking another step out, I let my eyes wander even more, searching for the slightest sign of a threat. Still, there were none to be seen.

Just as Dean was about to take a step out of the tiny shed, my hands are on his chest and I am pushing him back inside. I lurch forward after him, bracing my weight against the wood to try and keep Dean from pushing out. My hand fumbles around for a moment before I find the lock, snapping it into place and stepping away from the door.

"Sorry about this." I mumble under my breath, running my fingers along the grooves between the door and the door frame. Dean must not have heard me for he was still trying to ram against the door in an attempt to throw it open.

Dean grunts loudly, soon followed by an exasperated groan. "Laine, let me out. Now"

I shake my head, even though he couldn't see it. "Dean, it's going to be alright. I'll come get you and let you out," I reassure him as I step away from the door. "Right after I kick some monster ass."

He must hear my last statement for soon, there was furious banging on the door of the shed. "Laine, don't you dare leave me here. You are not going in the by yourself. Laine!" His shouts are still hushed, but were getting louder for every second that I don't reply.

"Sorry Dean, but I gotta do this." I state as I grip my knife tighter. "I'll come back, I will." The sentence trails off at the end, as if my words were wavering because I wasn't just trying to convince him; I was also trying to convince myself.

As I walk away and towards the back of the house, I repeat those same words over and over again, both verbally and mentally. "I'll come back." Those were the last things I said before entering the current lion's den.

* * *

There were more bodies littered around the house than what had been outside and on the highway. Each body was missing a few limbs, some arms, others legs, but all of them had their heads rolling around somewhere other than attached to their shoulders.

Even though I was glad that I was starting to hack through the numbers of monsters in my house, there were a few things that pissed me off royally.

One, they had trashed my house beyond anything I could have imagined. I mean, come on people, it's very disrespectful and I don't think they would appreciate it if I went and did that to their place.

Two, they had made me stain my Persian rug. My freaking Persian rug. Of anything in the whole house, it just had to be that. And with blood of all things, which was a bitch to get out.

Fuck them.

Taking another swing, I successfully take another head off a pair of shoulders. Another one bites the dust. After the sound of the body smacking the floor floats away, nothing but silence ensues. Which was odd, 'cause you would think that someone would send more goonies if they heard all the ruckus that was coming from downstairs.

I contemplate calling out and asking where everyone was, but I think better of it, knowing that both Dean and Sam would give me shit if they knew that I was instigating the enemy. Instead, I opt for taking the stairs one at a time, my muscle tense and ready to slash and hack anything that got in my way.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn to the left, walking down the hall when I see that the door to Sam's temporary room slightly ajar. I do a quick once over of the surrounding upstairs area before I make my way towards it, my mind completely in hunter mode. Tapping the door open with my foot, I step inside with the utmost caution, one hand reaching out to flick the lights on.

When I enter fully and am presented a full view of the room, I almost drop to my knees right then and there.

Hung from the roof by nothing but his hands and some rope was Sam, his shirt removed so you could clearly see deep, angry red gashes running along his chest and arms. They were still oozing blood with a steady flow, which means it was freshly done. A sob escapes my lips as I rush over to Sam, not bothering to pay any mind when my knife slips out of my hands and clatters to the floor.

Without hesitation, I pull a chair up and begin untying his bonds, supporting his weight when he begins to sag to the ground. After he is untied, I drag him over to the bed and lay him down on the silk sheets. My eyes wander across his abdomen and I almost flinch at the sight of the bone deep crevices decorating his body.

I pull his head into my lap, cradling it and brushing stray pieces of hair out of his face. My fingers dance across his face and make their way to his throat, pressing down to feel for a pulse. It was there, but barely.

"Sam? Hey, Sam, you need to wake up. We need to get out of here and I can't drag you all by myself." I ramble, stroking his face while trying to keep my breathing in check.

When I feel his heartbeat spike underneath my fingers, I automatically go into panic overdrive. "Sam?" I begin to hope, praying to God and whoever else was listening that he would be alright and alive.

A few moments later, his eyes flick open, wide and alert, but there was something different about them. Instead of the warm, chocolate brown they usually were, they were now a luminous and dangerous gold. It takes me a moment too long to realize this and react, which gives the Sam look-a-like just enough time to flip us over and pin me beneath his entire body weight.

"You hunters are way too predictable. All of you are the same." He chastises with a canine toothed smirk, his face slowly contorting and shifting into what I am assuming is his natural body.

"What do you want with me?" I growl, struggling beneath the weight of him, trying to achieve even the slightest piece of leverage, but he just presses down on me harder.

"Can't tell you that, but I can tell you that the boss will be happy that I caught you. And so easily, too." He cackles with hysteria gleaming in his eyes, a bit of saliva dripping out of his mouth and landing on my cheek. "Have a good sleep, sweetheart." He coos just as I feel my lids begin to get heavier, and soon they were fluttering shut and the darkness consumes me.

* * *

When I finally come to, the only sounds I can hear are the constant slow drip of water out of a tap and the hum of a generator nearby. The serenity is broken by the slamming of a door, which echoes around me. Footsteps soon follow, the noise bouncing off the walls, barely giving me a hint as to where I was.

It sounded like I was in my basement, but I couldn't be sure.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing." A voice states from somewhere in front of me. By the harshness of voice, I'm guessing that it's a man. Wonderful.

My senses focus on his approaching footsteps, carefully tracking how close he was getting and where he was moving. Four steps then stop, another six steps then stop. "Thanks for noticing. I don't know if I can say the same about you though."

"Funny too. What a little treat you will be to eat." He laughs, his footsteps stopping. I feel warm breath fan across my face, his breath smelling of rotting meat.

"Sorry darling, I'm fun to play with, not to eat." I bite back as I struggle in an attempt to get my hands out of the binds they were in behind my back. If I could just slip one out slightly, I could reach the knife in the back of my pants.

The man laughs again and I feel one of his fingers trail across my cheek. Shivers run up my spine at the contact and I try not to shy away from his touch in disgust.

"Did anyone ever tell you not to anger the person who could kill you?" He questions, his finger – or at least I think it was his finger – runs across my neck. Never mind, that was definitely his nose.

The guy inhales sharply, humming in pleasure before backing away. More shivers run through me and I try to keep my voice steady as I reply. "Actually, I was taught to kill them first before they have the chance to kill me."

"Well missy, it looks like you're at a bit of a disadvantage here. You're blindfolded and bound, and probably weak right now. Also, you have no clue what I am or how to kill me."

I let out a laugh at his statement, which earns me a swift backhand to the face. Spitting out the small amount of blood in my mouth, I smirk towards the man in front of me. "You must not know hunters very well, 'cause if you did you would know that we study every kind of monster and know pretty much everything about you."

"So you think you know what I am then?"

At his question, I start listing the clues as to what he could be. "Your rankly stink like a rotting corpse, and your buddies upstairs, well they got their heads chopped off and that was pretty damn easy. So, since we're playing Family Feud, I'm gonna guess vampire."

My statement shuts him up quite quickly.

"I'm right, aren't I?" When I don't get a response, I take that as confirmation. "I have one question though; why do vamps want me? They don't come looking for hunters, usually, it's the other way around."

He remains silent, letting me ramble on for a few moments before stopping, listening to the sound of the dribbling water. The silence is broken by a sharp crack of laughter, almost sounding like a whip against skin. He continues to cackle madly and I could just picture him doubly over in laughter.

"What's so funny, asshat?"

He ignores me and continues laughing, something that goes on for a few more minutes. When he stops laughing, I feel him move closer to me, his fingers creeping under my blindfold. The fabric is lifted away from my eyes and my vision goes black for a few seconds before going to normal, quickly adjusting to the change in lighting.

When I am able to see again, I am met with a pair of glowing orange eyes and a head of dark hair. "I am not a vampire, not even close. As for my 'buddies' that you disposed of, well they weren't vampires either." He states, a smirk now steadily resting on his mouth.

My face scrunches up in confusion as I rack my brain for hints as to what he might be. "What are you then?" I ask, the words coming out barely above a hushed mumble.

The man shrugs and walks around me, leaning against the back of the chair I was tied to and pulls my hair back from my neck. "I thought we were playing Family Feud?" He teases, his fingers trailing down my neck and scratching my collar-bone.

"Just fucking tell me." I grind out, quickly getting fed up with playing games with my captor.

"You are no fun, my dear. No fun at all." He shakes his head and steps away from me, turning around and walking towards a table that I just noticed was there. He runs his fingers across whatever was on the table, a concentrating frown forming on his face. A few seconds later, he turns back around with a knife in his hand. It was small and pointed, and it looked awfully familiar.

"Look familiar? That's because it is. This was the one you were reaching for, wasn't it?" He enquires, walking back over to me and kneeling down before my legs.

"What are you?" I ask, my teeth clenched together to restrain myself from lashing out at him with everything I had. I was so close to slipping my hands free, but I am positive that if it came down to who was faster, the man in front of me would stab me before I could make a move.

"If you really must know, I am a Rakshasa. You do know what that is, right?" He looks up at me with calculating eyes, and I slowly shake my head side to side, knowing that something bad was about to happen. I could feel it in the pit of my gut. "That's too bad." He shrugs before plunging the silver knife straight into the flesh in my thigh, just barely grazing the bone and slicing right through muscle and tissue, down to the wooden seat of the chair.

A cry of agony threatens to burst through my lips, but I hold it back as best I can, clenching my teeth together tightly and squeezing my eyes shut. I could feel every inch of the blade that was inside of me and with the slightest movement, pain shot through me like an arrow.

"Come on now, you must know what a Rakshasa is. They do teach you these things in Hunter 101, don't they?" He laughs, staring down at me with pleasure in his eyes as he watches me struggle against the pain coursing through my leg.

"I told you, I don't know." I manage to grind out just before a gunshot rings through the air and my captor falls forward, crashing to the floor with a hole in his skull.

My gaze is stuck to the body on the ground, watching the blood stream from him and pool around his head, the gunshot still bouncing off the walls and ringing in my ears. When my eyes finally tear themselves away from the body, I see Sam darting towards me with a worried look on his face.

"Hey, Sam." I manage to flash a weak grin at him as he checks me over for any wounds, other than the large one that was prominently displayed on my thigh.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks, his eyes flitting across me one more time before going upwards and connecting with my gaze.

"Just peachy. Untie me and get this damn knife out." I order and he complies without pause, moving to untie my hands first.

Once those were free, I rub at my tender wrists for a few moments before grabbing onto the blade. Sam's eyes widen as he watches me, knowing what I was going to do.

"Do you want me to do that?" I just shake my head and slowly pull the knife out, wincing every time it moved at a wrong angle. The blade soon slips out cleanly, leaving me with a gaping hole in my leg. Just what I needed today.

Dropping the blade onto the ground, I motion for Sam to help me up. He nods and stands me up, and before I can object, his hands are sliding under me and I am being lifted up bridal style.

"Let's get out of here, okay?" Sam smiles warmly down at me as he moves towards the stairs.

"Yeah, sounds good." I agree, resting my head on his shoulder as he carries me out of the house, my eyes closing due to the comfort of being in the arms of someone I trust.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! I hope that you all had a lovely Christmas, or whatever else you may celebrate! Thank you to all the readers and people who have favourited this story, I'm glad you are enjoying it. Please leave some comments on what you think so far, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Thank you The-blackfirewolf for beta-ing this chapter, as well.**

**-Ace**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Road Trip Revelations**

"Is she okay?" Was Dean's first and immediate question once Sam had let him out of the tool shed. Sam's hands on Dean's shoulders were the only thing stopping him from rushing towards the front of the house where Laine was waiting.

"Dean, she's fine, for the most part. Just go easy on her, okay? She doesn't need you getting pissed at her for going in without you." Sam explains, still keeping his hold on his brother strong.

"Like Hell I won't." Dean grumbles while sending a small glare towards the younger Winchester.

"Dean..." Sam's warning tone causes Dean to stop struggling and sigh deeply.

"Fine, I won't give her shit, alright?" He lets the tension roll off his frame, hoping that this would help convince his brother. Sam just stares at him, distrust evident on his features. Another sigh escapes Dean's lips at his brothers lack of faith in him. "I promise. Now, can you please let me go so I can see her for myself?"

Sam's face twists up in hesitation before he nods, removing his hands from his brother and allowing him to push past him, towards the front of the house.

When he rounds the corner of the house, the first thing he sees is Laine, sitting on the front steps with her elbows resting on her knees and her chin in on top of her knuckles, her gaze trained intently down the road. Dean sighs in relief upon seeing her in one piece and continues walking towards her. As he gets closer, Laine lifts her head and turns to face him.

She pushes off the steps and stands, slightly wobbling as she tries to gain her balance. Dean reacts quickly, darting forward and wrapping his arms around her, catching her before she has time to fall over. He feels her hands wrap around his torso, holding on tightly as she buries her face in his chest.

"I'm sorry." Laine murmurs, the sound muffled against his jacket. Dean just shakes his head, dismissing her apology, and just enjoying the feel of her warm and alive body in his arms. When he steps back, his hold on her shoulders doesn't lessen for he was helping to keep her standing, but also to reassure himself that she wasn't going anywhere.

"Don't do that again. Ever." Dean warns, not letting her gaze stray from his.

Laine cracks a smile and lets out a laugh, her eyes sparkling with humour at his obvious concern. "I won't. I don't really fancy getting stabbed in the leg again."

All sense of joking is lost when she says the last sentence, the anger slipping back onto Dean's features. "He stabbed you?" His voice was steady, but she could sense the hostility hidden underneath the solemn tone.

"Dean, it's over now. He's dead. There's nothing to get angry about." She explains, nipping the conflict right in the butt. Dean sighs and instead of arguing, just pulls the woman into his arms and rests his chin on top of her head.

"I'm glad you're okay." Dean mumbles into her hair, silently hoping that she might not of heard, but also wanting her to.

"Me too." When they step apart, she was looking up at him with that dazzling smile that brightened every inch of her face, and he cracked a smile at her exuberance; it was hard not to.

He would deny this later, but it was almost instinctive when his hand travels up from her shoulder, over her neck, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before cupping her cheek in his hand. She leans in to the touch, her eyes fluttering closed in contentment. When she reopens her eyes, Dean is still watching her and the warm feeling in his chest swells when her head cocks to the side, the corners of her eyes crinkling with the grin that was plastered on her face.

Dean begins to say something, but the sound of crunching gravel causes them both to jump apart.

"I told you she was fine." Sam slaps his hand on Dean's shoulder when he approaches them, his voice holding no hint as to if he was aware of what was just occurring between Laine and Dean.

"Of course I'm fine! I'm tougher than you think." Laine laughs as she puts most of the pressure of her body weight onto her left leg.

"Are you ready to get out of here?" Dean asks as he searches his pockets for his car keys. Laine nods glumly, a look of almost sadness washing across her face before it disappears for good. The two Winchesters nod and turn, beginning to walk away from the estate.

They both stop in their tracks when they hear a loud clearing of the throat. Turning, they see Laine standing a few feet behind them with her arms crossed over her chest. "Really guys? Just gonna leave me? I sorta have a problem walking right now, but whatever." She shrugs, the underlying threat of her words just buried beneath the surface, but visible enough that it makes both boys shudder.

Dean laughs nervously and jogs back to where she was standing, placing his arms underneath her back and legs and hoisting her up into his arms. "My knight in shining armour." Laine mutters with a sarcastic quirk to her lips as she wraps her arms around his neck for support.

"I'll drop you." Dean threatens which just earns him a laugh before Laine quiets down.

"Sure you will." She teases as she rests her head on his shoulder, enjoying the free ride all the way back to the Impala.

* * *

"I need to pee." Laine complains for the seventh time in what was only two hours.

"You just went when we stopped at the last town. You can wait till we get to your aunt's place." Dean states, just wanting to turn around in his seat and duct tape the woman's mouth shut so she couldn't spew anymore words. He thought that Sam was a bad travel buddy, well, he was gravely mistaken; women were way worse.

"Dean, come on! I'm gonna piss myself back here. I just downed a whole litre of water and their place is still another six hours away!" Laine explains in an exasperated tone, her thighs squeezing together as best she could get them, considering her wound. Her eyes catch Dean's in the rear view mirror and the look she was giving him made him feel like he had kicked an innocent puppy.

"Iowa city is an hour away, we can stop there. Maybe find a place to spend the night, too." Sam's words shut up the other two occupants of the vehicle, stopping the fight that was sure to ensue before it could even begin.

Dean frowns at the idea, not seeing the need to stop since they had plenty of gas to drive another couple hundred miles, but nods his head stiffly, not feeling up to getting into an argument with his brother or the woman in the back.

The rest of the ride was silent and the three of them wouldn't have had it any other way.

* * *

When Laine reemerges from the bathroom, content and happy that she could finally relieve herself, Sam was sitting at the small kitchen table and Dean was no where to be seen.

"Where's Dean?" Laine asks as she grabs a protein bar out of the plastic bag on the counter before hobbling her way towards the beds, taking her seat on one closest to the motel room door.

Sam looks up from his laptop and over towards her. "Went to get food." He states blandly, ending that conversation before it could even start. She accepts his answer and unwraps her bar, biting off a large piece and beginning to chew. "Speaking of Dean, what's going on between you two?"

Laine's gaze flashes up to stare at Sam with confusion the second the question slips from his lips. Her chewing slows as she thinks of an answer, soon deciding to go with an oblivious approach, which wouldn't be too hard considering she was oblivious to what he was asking. "What do you mean?"

Sam raises his eyes again and gives her a disbelieving look. "I think you know what I mean." He replies easily, as if that could even be considered an answer in itself.

Her brows scrunch together for a moment as she tries to decipher his words, her eyes soon widening in realization. "If you think that there is something going on between us, you're mistaken. He's like a brother to me."

It's Sam's turn to look up with question, not believing the words that were coming out of Laine's mouth. "I may suck in the relationship department, but I'm not blind. I can see the looks that go between you two, and I know that you notice as well. Dean probably does too, even if he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. And by God, the sexual tension between you two is damn near suffocating."

Laine laughs at this, but it comes out nervous and slightly broken in places. "I'm serious, there is nothing between us." She insists with an affirming nod of her head.

"You might be the one who is blind then." Sam mumbles quietly, but Laine hears the words clearly, and goes back to typing away at his computer. The two fall into silence, neither speaking for a few minutes until Sam breaks it, looking up from his laptop. "How's your leg feeling?"

Laine shrugs and absently places her hand over the bandaged wound. "Still hurts like a bitch, but I'll be fine. It'll be healed before you know it." She sends him a reassuring smile, which does nothing but earn a soft sigh from Sam.

The younger Winchester stands and moves over to his bag which was resting on top of the other bed. He rummages around in it for a few seconds before walking over to Laine, gauze, a needle and thread, and what looked to be a bottle of whiskey in his hands.

"Unwrap it for me." Sam orders, setting the objects down on the bed before going into the bathroom, coming back out with a wet cloth in his hand. Laine slowly removes the bloodied gauze from her leg, wincing when the open wound comes in contact with air. Sam grabs her leg and drapes it across his lap, beginning to gently dab the cloth on the gash to wash away the blood.

"I can do this myself, you know." Laine grumbles, flinching every time he swiped the cloth over the irritated flesh.

Sam just shrugs and continues about his job. "I know, but I want to do it." His answer was soft and simple, the words falling from his mouth with a tone of responsibility; like it was his responsibility to take care of Laine when she was hurt, even though he was younger than her.

As Sam begins sterilizing the needle with the liquor, Laine rests back on her hands, watching him in a studious way. He was so precise with his movements, almost flawless. Watching him made a question pop up into her head, one that she had forgotten to ask when Sam had carried her out of the house.

"Hey, Sam?" He gives a grunt in reply, still focusing on threading the needle. "When did you leave the bunker?" This gets her a brief look and a shrug before he was back to working.

She sucks in a sharp breath when the needle pierces her skin, but she shakes it off when Sam begins speaking. "You guys said five minutes, and when you weren't there, I got worried considering both you and Dean can get into a lot of trouble in five minutes."

At this she laughs, shrugging because she couldn't deny his words; it was true, they could do a significant amount of damage in a short time, just ask Bobby. He knew all too well what those two could do when they put their minds to it. "So, what did you do?" She asks, the muscles in her body tensing with each pass of the needle through her skin.

"Went outside and saw bodies everywhere, so I went looking for you guys. I saw the Impala down the road, but no one was there so I called Dean and he said you locked him in a shed. Dean told me to come and find you, so I did and the rest you know." Sam explains as he ties off the end, grabbing some scissors off the night stand to cut off the excess.

"Thank you." Laine replies and Sam just nods, grabbing the bottle of J.D. and unscrewing the cap. Holding the bottle close to her leg, he pours the whiskey on the wound, letting the cloth catch the falling liquid as he sterilizes the wound again, not wanting it to become infected.

She let out a hiss at the sensation, but clamps her lips shut and endures it. Sam waits a few seconds before dabbing around the gash, absorbing any excess liquid before moving onto the gauze. This process goes by quickly, Sam's experienced hands wrapping it neatly and with precision.

When he finishes, he grabs the supplies and stands, shooting Laine a soft smile. "You're welcome." He says, going over to his bag and putting away the objects.

Laine lets herself fall back onto the bed, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. She continues that for a few moments, her lids soon drooping shut and her mind pulled into an unconscious state. She falls asleep to the sound of the fan spinning above her head and Sam's fingers darting across his keyboard.

* * *

She was shaking. Or more specifically, someone was shaking her. Very persistently, might she add. She tries to roll over and go back to sleep, but the person who was shaking doesn't stop. With an annoyed groan from being woken, she rolls onto her back and opens her eyes slowly, her gaze flicking around until it settles on a face with green eyes.

"What d' ya w'nt?" She grumbles, her words slurring from sleep, as she throws her arm over her face as a shield from the light that was emitting from the lamp on the nightstand.

The bed she was laying on dips close to her hip, signifying that he had sat down. "It's late. I was just wondering if you wanted to go back to your room and have something to eat." Dean says in a low voice that was bordering on a hushed murmur.

Laine groans again, louder this time, and sits up, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. "Yeah, sure, whatever." She grumbles and goes to stand up, without much luck. Dean is right there at her rescue, grabbing her elbow and helping her up.

"You can walk right?" He asks once she was standing steadily on her own. When shes gives a nod, Dean steps away from her and goes to the kitchen, grabbing a white plastic bag. "Come on."

Obeying his words, she shuffles over and out the door that Dean was holding open for her. He shuts the door behind him and locks it before placing a hand on the small of Laine's back, urging her to move forward.

They walk a few steps, then come to a stop outside a peeling red door with a rusted number seven bolted to the surface. Dean removes his hand and reaches in his pocket, pulling out a key card and shoving it in the small opening on the handle. The door unlocks with a soft beep and Dean reaches to the handle, twisting it and pushing the door open.

Laine trudges in first, with Dean following, and feels for the switch on the wall. Her fingers come into contact with the little protruding nubs and flicks upwards, light flooding the room in a dull glow.

Her eyes sweep around the room, taking in the surroundings as she walks in farther, barely paying any attention when Dean closes the door. She makes her way over to the bed which didn't have her travel bag on it, lowering herself until she was sitting as comfortably as she could manage with her aching leg.

"Do you want something to eat?" Dean asks, snapping Laine out of her dazed state. Instead of replying, she just nods and lays back on the bed, softly humming to the song playing on the radio. A few minutes later, a beeping noise fills the room, followed by the clang of glasses and Dean swearing about something being hot.

The smell of greasy fast food fills her nose, causing her body to rise up in hunger. She watches Dean intently as he walks towards her, eyeing the white container and mug in his hands.

"Burgers and fries." Dean states, handing Laine the container first, then the mug. She sets the container down in front of her and holds the cup up to her nose, sniffing at the liquid. "Jack Daniels, thought you could use something a little stronger than beer."

Laine takes a gulp and smiles her thanks at him, handing him the cup back so he could hold it while she ate her food.

She was about halfway through her burger and completely finished her fries when she grabs the cup from his hands, taking a long gulp of the drink. It burns on the way down, but she welcomes it, letting out a satisfied sigh at the sensation forming in her gut, the alcohol spreading through her veins and warming her from the inside out. "You can finish that if you want." Laine motions to the half-eaten burger, taking another slower gulp of J.D.

Dean grins and swipes the burger from the container, shoving the remaining piece into his mouth, finishing it in a couple chews and swallows. He licks at his fingers, a look of ecstasy crossing his face as he savours the remaining flavours of the burger. "Now, that is what I call a burger." Dean moans out when he finishes.

His statement makes a giggle escape Laine, almost causing her to choke on her drink. "Dude, drinking here." She laughs, swallowing the remaining liquid while trying to cough out the bit that went down the wrong tube.

Dean shrugs and takes the garbage and the now empty mug from Laine, getting up and walking over to the kitchenette to dispose of it. He comes backs a few moments later with two beers in his hand. He hands one to Laine while taking a swig of his own, taking residence on the bed again.

She nods her thanks and puts the bottle to her lips, letting the liquid spill down her throat in a steady stream. After one more gulp, she pulls it away, catching the drop of liquid that was sliding down the side of the bottle with her tongue, licking back up the neck of the bottle until she reached the top. The whole time, she could feel Dean's eyes on her, watching closely while he sips at his own beer.

Turning, she sets the bottle down on the bedside table. "I'm gonna go have a shower. You just gonna chill here?" She asks, crawling carefully off the bed and moving towards the bathroom.

"Yeah, why not?" Dean shrugs while flopping to the spot at the head of the bed, crossing his ankles over each other and placing a hand behind his head.

"Okay." Laine nods as she walks around the bed, her hands fumbling with the button on her jean shorts.

Dean's eyes stay trained on her, she could feel them literally boring into her, as she slips her shorts off her hips and lets them fall to the floor. "What are you doing?" His voice comes out rougher than usual when he speaks, a smirk forming on Laine's face at the notion.

"Getting undressed." She states plainly, slipping her shirt over her head and letting that accompany the shorts on the floor. By now, she was already at the door of the bathroom and only in her undergarments. "That's what you do when you have a shower, right?" She teases with a challenging look thrown over her shoulder before she disappears into the bathroom, the door closing loudly behind her.

* * *

Once the door was closed and he couldn't see her any more, Dean released a breath that he had been holding since she first started undressing. He runs a hand through his hair frantically, trying to calm the thoughts – thoughts he shouldn't even be thinking – that were swarming around in his mind.

This girl was going to be the absolute death of him; not demons and monsters, or old age, but the female hunter who he was developing feelings for, feelings that he thought he had buried and out-grown.

He waits a few more moments until he hears the water begin to run steadily before he bolts off the bed and out of the motel room, practically running towards where his Baby was parked. He was in it in record time, the keys in the ignition and the engine roaring to life, and he was backed out of the parking lot just as fast.

His racing mind and erratic breathing starts to calm down once he was on the road, driving away from the motel, and Laine. At the thought of her name, his grip on the steering wheel tightens and so does his chest.

Fuck, why was he acting like this?

That lone thought was the most prominent, standing out amongst the other thoughts of everything else, but mostly thoughts of Laine. Again, his mind travels back to Laine against his will – or that's what he kept trying to tell himself.

Why _was_ he acting like this? It's not like he was one to hightail it when he was getting close to a woman. No, it was the fact that it was Laine, someone who he had known his whole life, had practically grown up alongside her. She was always there for him, through the ups and downs, even when they were fighting and arguing about everything under the moon.

So, what was the problem now?

Instead of continuing to drive around aimlessly, he steers the car until it was parked safely on the shoulder of the empty highway. Dean leans back, his fingers drumming against the wheel in concentration as he tries to sort out his thoughts.

A loud sigh leaves his mouth when he realizes that he's just confusing himself more the longer he tries to figure this shit out. He did find one thing out though, even if that realization made him want to blast his brains out with a .45 and hightail it all the way to bumfuck nowhere so he wouldn't have to deal with anything that concerned this woman.

Placing his hands on the wheel, he turns it and pulls back out onto the road, going in the direction he was originally going. He figured Laine probably wasn't out of the shower yet, and even if she was, he still needed to do a couple things first. The rest of the drive was filled with loud classic rock and a few select thoughts floating around his head.

He wanted Laine. He needed Laine.

And there was nothing he could do to stop himself from thinking that.

And that's what scared him the most.

* * *

Stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my head and body, I notice that the room was free of Dean. A frown forms on my lips as I make my way over to the bed, confused as to where he might have gone. I sit down on the hard mattress and start rummaging through my bag for something to wear to bed. A few moments later, I pull out a pair of baggy sweats and a loose tank top, changing into them without much objection from my thigh.

As I begin running my fingers through my hair, I find myself humming animatedly to the song coming out of the radio. Taking my time, I smooth out my head of waves until they were soft and tangle free. This process takes a few minutes, but I find myself enjoying the calm feeling it was creating.

Picking the towels up off the floor, I throw them into the laundry basket in the bathroom then walk back out into the main area. I make my way over to the kitchenette, grabbing a glass and filling it with tap water. Pouring two pills out of the Tylenol bottle on the counter, I bring the glass to my lips and take a long drink, swallowing the pills in one gulp. Taking another drink to wash it all down fully, I let my free hand move towards the window and push the curtains back so I could see outside.

The sky was dark, filled with twinkling diamonds and a crescent moon hanging high above everything else. The glow from the moon was casting its light on the tips of the trees not far away and on any other dark surface that was not touched by the fluorescent stream emitting from the motel lights. Staring up at it through the curtains, I feel my eyes getting heavy with sleep.

Downing the rest of my water, I place the glass on the counter before making my way over to the bed, crawling beneath the covers and pulling them up around me. I could faintly hear the sound of Def Leppard flowing through the radio get quieter and quieter as I drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The sound of knocking on wood drags me out of my sleep and back to consciousness. Sitting up fully, I listen for the sound again. It was coming from the door.

Swinging my feet over the edge of the bed, I grab my gun from under my pillow – a habit of mine – before padding over to the door, placing my ear against it. The knocking sounds again.

"Who is it?" I ask, clicking the safety off and cocking the slide back, the bullet sliding into place within the chamber. When I get no answer, my hand readies the gun at my side while my other rests on the door handle.

With a swift twist, I open the door an inch, looking out and meeting green eyes that were staring down at me. A sigh escapes my lips as I open the door fully, leaning against the door frame with a frown making its way onto my face.

"Really? You just had to wake me up now?" I question, my tone slightly harsh from being woken so late into the night.

Dean just shrugs and nods his head towards the gun in my hand. "Are you gonna let me in or…." He trails off, leaving the words hanging in the air.

Another sigh and I am stepping back to let Dean wander in before shutting the door behind him. "So, uh, what are you doing here?" Was the first thing that floats out of my mouth once I was sitting down on the cheap motel bed that smelt of cheese and popcorn.

Dean shrugs again as he peers down into the open fridge only to come back up with a beer in hand. "Couldn't sleep…" He states as he twists the cap off, throwing it onto the counter he was currently leaning on. "And I wanted to make sure your leg was alright."

At his words, my hand reaches down and ghosts over the spot where my cut was. It had stopped bleeding – thank god – and now I only felt a few pulls of pain once in a while; those painkillers really are strong little buggers. "It's fine." I reply, tugging my knees up to my chest, wincing slightly at the pull on my wound, but relaxing again when it quickly turns into a dull thrum of irritation.

He nods at my response, taking a swig out of his drink. We quickly fall into silence, neither of us meeting the others eyes. This goes on for a few minutes before I crack my knuckles, hoping to break the tense atmosphere in the room.

"Uh, is that the only reason you came here?" I mumble, running a hand through the ends of my hair. "Cause I am pretty tired."

A laugh erupts from Dean at my blunt statement. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" He questions, staring over at me with a teasing look.

My eyes widen as my face heats up, realizing how my statement must have sounded. "Um, no, that's not it…" I begin but Dean cuts me off with another chuckle.

"No, I didn't come here just to talk." Dean states as he places his beer down on the counter before making his way over to me.

My arms move from around my shins and my legs fall to dangle off the edge of the bed as my eyes follow Dean's movement towards me. "Then what?" I ask as he stops to stand in front of me, offering his hand out to me.

"I came to apologize for bailing on you a couple hours ago...and to sort something out." He replies, his answer vague, as he pulls me upwards once I have placed my hand in his. With a twist of movement, our hands were now clasped together, with Dean's thumb running gently over mine.

"Dean…" I whisper as my eyes move from our intertwined hands and up to his face, meeting his eyes which were watching me with intent. "I don't think this is the best idea."

"Are you telling me that you haven't noticed anything that's been going on between us? And I thought Sam was the romantically oblivious one." He mumbles the last part as an after thought.

"Well no, but I don't want…" I begin but the words get caught in my throat.

Dean's hand tightens around mine and he steps a bit closer, our bodies mere inches apart. "You don't want what?"

I sigh deeply, my eyes flicking between his lips and his eyes. God, he was so tempting. Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I focus on the words I want to say. "I don't want this to be a one night stand and we both know that if we go through with this, that's all it will be come morning." I explain, regretting the words once they left my mouth.

Dean seems to register my words, but instead of backing off he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer against his chest, removing any space that existed between us. "It won't be, not with you. You... mean more to me than a one night stand." He hesitates halfway through, his face scrunching up as he tried to push the words out past his lips.

Shaking my head, I try to pull away, but Dean holds tighter. "Dean, we both know that you're not ready for any sort of commitment. We'd be fooling ourselves if we thought opposite." The words cut deep, but I push the pain away to the farthest corner of my mind.

"What if I am? What if I really want this?" He questions, determination clear in his voice and his grip. Another sigh escapes my lips as my free hand reaches up to rest itself against his chest, acting like a weak barrier between the two of us.

"Dean...it's been only been a day since you guys showed up. We haven't seen each other in seven years; this is nothing and never will be anything, we both know it." I mumble, even though all I want to do is push Dean against a wall and have him right here and now.

A groan comes from Dean and I feel a hand under my chin, lifting my head up towards him so he could meet my eyes. "Do you remember the year after we met?"

My face scrunches up in confusion at his question, but I nod nevertheless. "Yeah, that was when we declared war on each other and would annoy the crap out of the other at every possible chance." I laugh, memories of the past surfacing in my mind.

Dean smiles at this, shaking his head as if he was remembering too. "Do you remember what me and Sammy promised you?" His question earns him another look of confusion and I just shake my head, not clearly remembering what he told me. "We told you that we would always be there for you-"

"And that you would always love me." I finish for him, the memory sparking in my mind like fire on embers. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It...well..." Dean starts, but stops after each word, a look of concentration dancing in his eyes as if he was trying to find the right words to say. "Laine...well...I..." He tries and stops again, his teeth tugging his bottom lip into his mouth.

My eyes catch the movement, watching closely as his bottom lip is released and his tongue darts after it, sweeping over it like it was soothing away any pain. "Dean, can you please just stop talking?" Is all I manage to get out once I drag my eyes away from his mouth, moving up just in time to see a look of confusion swarm on his face.

"I'm trying to tell you something and you're telling me to shut up?" Dean stares at me in disbelief at my request. He goes to step away from me, but I hold my ground and pull him back, disentangling my hand from his and looping my arms around his neck.

"I get that you are trying to tell me something, I do, but you really suck with words." I shrug, moving an inch closer so our noses were almost touching.

"What do you suggest then?" Dean asks as his hands move from his sides to rest on my hips.

My eyes flick down to his lips before going back up, locking gazes with my childhood frenemy. "Do something you're good at." My words pull us closer, our breath mingling and our bodies flush.

"Like this?" Dean questions, his lips barely brushing against mine as he speaks, the movement creating a weird, but equally welcome, sensation against my lips.

Instead of nodding, I reach up on my toes and press our lips together. "Yeah, something like that." I mumble in response before Dean captures my lips again. It was all softness and fluttery touches, sugar and spice, nips and nibbles. "I know you can do better than this." I tease once we had broken apart for a quick breath.

Dean accepts my unspoken challenge, surprising me when he hoists me up by my thighs. Instinctively, my legs wrap themselves around his waist as Dean's hands move so they were supporting me. His mouth finds mine again, pulling my lips against his in soft, precise motions. I could feel Dean moving and before I could let out a squeak of shock at falling onto the bed, Dean's lips were over mine, absorbing the sound.

He was deliberately taking his sweet time making his way away from my mouth, down my jaw and across my neck, trailing little kisses along the way, until he reaches the skin between my neck and shoulder. He pulls the skin into his mouth, kissing and suckling and nipping at the tender flesh.

A soft moan threatens to escape my lips, but I restrain, instead going about tugging at the hair on the crown of his head. I could feel a smirk form on Dean's lips as he travels back up my throat, once again leaving small marks, reaching my lips soon enough and pressing his to mine.

I pull away from him, my body feeling hot from the way his lips were on me, a happy grin on my face. "You really can do better when you put you mind to it." I laugh lightly, my hands still carding through his short hair.

Dean smiles and pecks my lips again, rolling over so he was laying next to me. "That wasn't even the best of my abilities." He replies while pulling me against his side.

I let out a sigh and allow myself to be pulled, slotting our bodies together like a puzzle piece. My eyes flutter closed at the feeling of peace coursing through me, but they quickly flash open, my body rolling over so I could face Dean. "This might not work out, you know that right?" I ask, simply curious as to what his answer would be.

"Why not?" His head tilts to the side a fraction of an inch, the hand that was draped over me starting to rub circles on my stomach.

I shift a bit so I was facing him more and his fingers slip away to rest on my hip. "We're hunters, Dean. We never get anything good, and if we do, it never lasts. One day, something is going to happen to one of us, and we won't be able to deal with it." I pause, watching his face which just remained stoic and intensely focused on me. "I-I don't think I can risk losing another person I care about." The last part is quiet coming out of my mouth as long-buried memories begin to surface.

Dean's grip on me tightens and I am pulled closer, his lips pressing briefly to my temple. Laying my head back on the pillow, I look up and meet Dean's gaze, his fingers twining with mine. "I told you before, I don't care. Can't we just give it a try? If things start to go south, we'll stop, okay?" He answers with complete honesty in his voice, his eyes begging me to agree.

Nodding, I roll back over and snuggle into his side, relishing in the warmth of his body. "Goodnight, Dean." I murmur, closing my eyes.

"Goodnight, Laine." Dean replies and I feel him press his lips to the back of my head in a gentle touch.

I remember falling asleep with a content smile on my face and Dean pressed up against me, his arms wrapped around my waist tightly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Sorry for the late upload. I was sick yesterday and had absolutely no energy, but I'm feeling way better now so I thought I better upload the next chapter before I forgot. So, please enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments. Have a great day!**

**-Ace**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Awkward situations**

"So, what was that thing the other day? The Rakshasa, or whatever it called itself." I ask, directing my question at Sam as I shovel a bite of omelet into my mouth. It was sort of awkward talking to Sam right now, considering our unfortunate run in this morning.

_"Hey, Laine, you've got something on your neck." _

_"What, no I don't." _

_"Yeah, there's something red there." _

_"Oh! Uh, Sam...that...uh..." _

_"Don't tell me, please, just don't."_

After that, it was hard to look each other in the eye, let alone keep a decent conversation going. Dean wasn't much help to the situation either; he neither denied it or outright said it, but by the way he smirked or grinned, it was obvious that he wasn't try to hide it in the slightest.

"They're kind of like a demon, in a way, but originate from Hindu mythology. They were sinful humans who died and came back as people eating monsters." Sam explains after taking a sip of his black coffee.

Nodding, I swallow the rest of my coffee and push a piece of bacon into my mouth. "So, what all can they do?" I manage between chews.

Sam shrugs, smacking Dean's hand away when he tries to steal a sausage off his plate. "Shape-shift, make illusions and a few other things. Not a lot is known about them, really."

Dean sighs and reaches for my plate, swiping a piece of bacon and shoving it into his mouth, grinning when I shoot him the death glare. "How did you know how to kill it then?" He questions once he had swallowed _my _bacon.

Again, Sam shrugs. "Lucky guess." That was all he said before going back to eating his breakfast of eggs, toast and sausage.

We fall into a silence, the dull hum of morning chatter from other occupants of the diner filling the void. A few minutes later, Dean was throwing down a few bills onto the table and we were walking out of the diner with full bellies.

Opening the back door of the Impala, I slide into the seat behind Dean which was where I have been sitting for the past four hours of the drive. We were about an hour away from Blair, and had stopped in a small little town that I don't remember the name of, to get some breakfast before we showed up at my aunt's place. The boys slam their doors shut, joining me inside the car.

Not long after, we were on the busy highway and back on course.

* * *

"Do they know we're coming?" Dean asks me once we were parked outside of my aunt's two-story contemporary house. Leaning over the seat, I flash Dean a judging look.

"No, I wanted it to be a surprise." I shrug. "It's not as if they don't like you."

Sam nods his head in agreement. "Laine's right. Stop being such a baby, Dean."

A look of mock hurt crosses Dean's face, his mouth flopping open and closed like a guppy. "I am not being a baby." He huffs, glaring at Sam and I.

I let out a laugh at the look on his face and open the door. "Whatever you say, baby." With a pat on Dean's shoulder, I climb out and walk around the car, standing next to Sam, my eyes staring up at my childhood home. "Let's go then." Grabbing Sam by the sleeve, I pull him up the stairs and onto the porch, stopping short of the door. "

Looking over my shoulder, I see Dean still sitting in the car, a grumpy look on his face as he stares at Sam and I. Mouthing the word 'baby', I start smirking when Dean glares, but gets out of the Impala non the less. I laugh lowly at my victory, which earns me a shove from Dean when he walks up the steps, before ringing the doorbell.

We stand there, waiting, for someone to answer the door. My nerves start going haywire, forming bundles of anticipation in my stomach at the thought of seeing my family again after a whole year. A few moments later, the sound of pounding feet and the turn of a lock causes those bundles to squeeze tighter.

The door opens at an agonizingly slow pace – or at least it seemed that way – to reveal my uncle in no shirt and Batman pyjama pants. At first, he runs a hand through his mess of hair and stares at us with sleepy eyes. My lips quirk as I watch recognition flit across my uncle's face, his hand stilling at his side.

"Laine." He mumbles, surprise filling his features.

One corner of my mouth turns up in a small grin. "Hey, Uncle." I greet with a cheesy grin before I am pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Wrapping my arms around his torso, I bury my face in his chest, relishing in the feel of family.

"You're aunts are gonna go crazy." Dixon grins, motioning for us to walk inside. We do and he shuts the door behind us, still grinning ear from ear. "It's good to see you boys again." He greets the boys, holding out his hand for them to shake and pulling each one into a tight hug when they clasp hands.

"Dixon, who's here?" The familiar voice of my aunt Kiera floats through the hall, her head poking out of the kitchen a few moments later. Her eyes widen at the sight of the three newcomers in her entry way and a bright smile forms on her face, right before she comes barrelling towards us with open arms.

I am swept into a tight embrace, spinning around with a giggling aunt. "Lainey! It's so good to see you!" She chirps, using my childhood nickname as she crushes the life out of me. If you ever want a good hug, look up my aunt; she'd squeeze the living daylights right out of you in no time.

"Hi, Auntie." I greet after she lets me go. She squeezes my shoulders one more time before fixing her eyes on the two standing next to me.

"Come give your auntie some love." Kiera motions the boys forward, her arms open and waiting. Dean grins from ear to ear – he has always had a thing for my aunts – and Sam was looking a little reluctant to have human contact, but steps forward anyways. Kiera pulls them both in to a hug, her petite form getting lost in between the two mountains that were Sam and Dean.

"Well, you boys have filled out nicely, if I do say so myself." Kiera laughs, patting the boys on their arms and stomachs.

Sam laughs nervously in response and Dean's grin widens, his eyes sweeping over Kiera appreciatively. "You don't look to bad yourself, Kiera."

"He's still a charmer, as always." My aunt looks over at me, nodding her head in Dean's direction.

Shrugging, I laugh at her statement. "That's Dean for ya." Even Dixon lets out a laugh along with the others at my answer.

"How rude of me! Please, come in. We were just finishing up lunch. Have you guys ate, yet?" My aunt leads us through the house, asking countless questions about anything and everything.

* * *

The rest of the day went smoothly, mostly filled with everyone lounging around and catching up, trading stories and laughing about absolutely nothing. It was a welcome relief for everyone, just having the opportunity to sit down and talk with people who were close to you was a gift in itself. By the time supper came and passed, we were all full of Kiera's delicious homemade lasagna and dead tired.

"Well, you three have a good sleep. God knows you deserve it after the couple of days you've had." Kiera shakes her head before pecking me on the cheek.

"We will, and thank you for letting us spend the night here." Sam replies, sending her a sincerely grateful smile.

Kiera returns it easily. "It's no problem. Well, goodnight." She says, turning and walking up the stairs, disappearing into her shared bedroom with Macey, the door closing behind her.

Sam and Dean follow after me as we walk downstairs to where our rooms were located. We all quickly say goodnight and head into our own rooms. After changing into a loose shirt to wear to bed and throwing my hair into a bun, I crawl under the covers and close my eyes, willing sleep to come.

It doesn't.

Not even a little bit.

Kicking the covers back, I stare up at the dark ceiling. I close my eyes and try again, only to find myself less tired than what I was before. With an angry sigh, I slide out of bed and pad over to the door. I open it and step outside, walking a few steps on the cold laminate before realizing that there was someone sitting at the parlour in the far corner of the room, their back facing me.

Sliding over, I take the seat next to him, accepting the bottle that was handed to me. I bring the bottle to my lips, take a swig of what tasted like vodka, and pass it back. "Couldn't sleep, either?" I ask, licking a stray droplet off the corner of my lip.

"Yup." Dean mumbles around the rim of bottle, draining a good portion of the contents when he takes a drink. We sit in silence for a good while, trading the bottle back and forth plenty of times until it was close to empty. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Shoot."

Dean inhales and places the bottle down, turning halfway in his chair so he was partially looking at me, his eyes glazed over due to the alcohol in his system. "Why did Bobby make us come and get you? I know for a fact that it wasn't just for a get together, so what was it?"

"A couple of months ago, I pissed a group of people off and they've been after me ever since. I've been able to evade them pretty easily, but lately they've been getting craftier with their methods. I figured that it was time to split before they did catch up and find me." I explain, tracing an indent in the wood of the counter with my index finger.

Dean is quiet for a moment before he lets out a soft 'hmm'. "So, were those guys from yesterday working for the people you pissed off?" He asks, his eyes flitting up to meet mine.

"Yeah, I think so." A yawn slips from me mid-reply, causing my words to sound jumbled and broken.

He nods slowly, like his mind was processing the information piece by piece. "I should probably let you get some sleep. We're hoping to leave first thing tomorrow." Dean slides the mostly empty bottle towards me as he stands up, making his way towards the room he was staying in.

"Okay, night." I watch Dean with half-lidded eyes, sleep beginning to gnaw at my mind, as I down the remaining liquid. Dean stops, hesitating, his eyes moving between the bedroom door and me. I faintly hear him mutter, "Fuck it," under his breath before he walks back over to me, pulling me into his arms.

I let my arms wrap themselves around his neck, holding him closely to me. We stay like that for a few moments, until Dean pulls back, his lips finding their way onto my forehead, pressing lightly. "Goodnight, Laine." He murmurs when he pulls away, turning and heading into his room with a soft click of the door trailing after him.

A tiny grin forms on my face as I touch the spot where his lips just were. Standing up from the bar stool, I walk back into my room and close the door behind me, the smile never leaving my face.

* * *

Even though I was buzzing with alcohol and dying to get some sleep, I still couldn't shut my mind off long enough to fall into that unconscious bliss. That was the main reason that I was currently sitting in my mum's old room, looking through old pictures of my uncle, my aunt and her from when they were younger.

I had just placed the pictures down on the bed when something peeking out from behind a stack of books in the closet catches my eye. Curiosity getting the best of me, I find myself crawling over to the closet and moving the books out of the way.

Pulling the box out of the closet, I settle it in front of my crossed legs. I grab the middle and yank the flaps out, revealing a half full box of pictures, books and a couple other things. I grab the first object, which was a book with a black cover and gold writing on it.

"Spiritus incantamenta." The words fall from my mouth naturally as my fingers brush over the gold words on the spine. Placing the book down beside me, I reach in the box and pull out the next object.

Rolling the silver knife around in my hands, I admire the intricate engravings on the blade. I couldn't quite figure out what they were, but they did look oddly familiar. The more I looked at it, the clearer the meaning of the engravings became. It was Enochian, and very old sigils to boot.

My eyes rake over the blade with my mouth moving in time with the thoughts in my head, the Enochian words of each sigil dripping silently from my lips. Just as I was deciphering the symbol on the butt of the hilt, the door to the bedroom opens and in walks my aunt.

She closes the door behind her and shuffles over to where I was sitting, taking a seat next to me with her legs crossed Indian style. "What ya looking at?" Macey questions, her eyes roaming over the book, the blade and the box in front of me.

"Just a box I found in the closet. I think it was Mum's." I answer as I take another thing from the box, setting the blade down next to me. This time, it was a picture frame. Flipping the frame over, I wipe away the dust that was gathering on it, my mouth falling open as I take in the contents of the picture.

Macey leans over and peers at the picture in my hands, a sad smile forming on her lips. "Your mother before you were born." She states, her gaze still glued to the faded picture, just like mine were.

Subconsciously, my finger trails over the outline of her as vague memories filter through my head. I am just about to ask Macey something about my mum, when I realize that there was someone standing behind Mum, the person's arms wrapped around my mother's waist.

"Who's that?" I ask, tapping my finger on the picture frame.

Macey hesitates for a moment before taking the picture from my hands, her gaze not leaving it. "That's...he's..." She starts, but her voice falters and I see a single tear fall from her cheek and land on the dusty glass.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't need to tell me." I scoot closer to her, placing a hand on her thigh.

Macey laughs lightly, shaking her head of brown waves. "No, you deserve to know. It's only fair." She states, wiping at her eyes and setting the picture frame down on the floor. Nodding, I wait for her to continue. She looks up at me before reaching over and grabbing the cardboard box, dragging it towards her so she could rummage through it. A few moments later, she hands me a stack of photos and a black leather bound book.

I take them both, placing the book down next to me as I start shuffling through the stack, noticing that one thing remains constant in all the photos. Alongside my Mum, there was always that guy. There were only two which didn't have him in it; one of Mum holding me as a baby and another of me sleeping in a crib. Macey must have sensed my question for she answers me before I have even spoke.

"His name was Micah. He and your mother were madly in love, nothing could separate the two of them. He made your mother so happy, it was stunning the love they had for each other." She murmurs, her eyes glazing over as tears started to form.

The words run through my head, replaying countless times over until something stuck out at me. "Was?"

Macey smiles sadly, her hand now resting on my knee. "He passed away a few months before you were born. Car accident, it was quite terrible. Your mother was heartbroken; those two really loved each other." Macey explains solemnly before shaking her head, as if to clear away any bad memories. "I should probably let you get some sleep. Take a look at that book if you get the chance. Goodnight, Laine."

With that said, she stands up and places a soft kiss on my forehead, turning to the door. Just as she opens the door, I stop her, a question itching at me to be asked. "This Micah guy...was he..." I trail off, not knowing quite exactly how to formulate my question.

Macey seems to understand my unspoken words for she smiles gently at me. "Was he your father, you mean?" She asks and I just nod, staring up at her with awaiting eyes. "Yes, he was." She whispers before exiting the room, closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

That night, instead of trying to get some sleep for the third time, I stay awake in bed until the sun begins to rise, doing nothing but look through the contents of the box. The last thing I look at is the journal; it is brimming with information about the supernatural world, some spells and incantations, some bible verses that I pay no mind to, and a bunch of other tidbits, even some info on people she had met, but really nothing about this Micah guy or anything about her personal life.

Even after reading it front to back, and back to front, I realize I wasn't going to get anything out of it. Closing the journal, I lay it down on the table next to me, rolling over to stare out the window to see little rays of sunlight starting to peek through the clouds. I close my eyes and will myself to try to get a couple of hours of sleep before we had to leave, and thankfully, this time I fell into a sleep with dreams of my mother and father.

* * *

It was just a little past two o'clock in the afternoon when we started saying our goodbyes. We would have left much earlier, but I had slept in extremely late and Aunt Kiera had insisted on making us a five course lunch.

"I wish you could stay longer," Kiera gushes, pulling us each into a tight hug one at a time. "But I know you can't, so hopefully we'll see you soon?" She asks me once she has me in her arms.

"Of course, Auntie." I return her hug, sad to have to leave already, but knowing that Bobby was probably wondering where we were.

Sam and Dean finish their hand shakes with Dixon and just as we are walking down the hall, Macey comes racing up the stairs and out onto the porch, a worn red book in her hands. "I found this in another box of your Mum's stuff, thought you would put it to good use. She would have wanted you to have it." She says, handing me the book. I run my fingers over the gold embroidery, realizing that it was a bible.

"Thank you." I whisper, holding it tightly in my hand as I return the hug that was offered to me. After a few seconds, we pull away and I see Macey smiling at me with moisture in her eyes.

"It was good to see you, sweetheart."

Nodding, I smile back at her. "You too, Auntie." Were my last words before I was running after the boys, sliding into the back seat. With a final wave, we were pulling onto the road and heading out of Blair.

* * *

The next few hours of the ride were peaceful; Dean was busy driving and sometimes singing to whatever was playing on the radio, Sam had fallen asleep at some point, and I was curled up in the back with my Mum's journal and the bible in my hands. My eyes were constantly flicking between the red book to the black one, always finding a passage marked with a star in the bible that connected to something in the journal. Even though none of them had any significant or hidden meaning behind them – or at least I didn't think they did – it was still interesting to read what my mother had thought important enough to mark down; her thoughts on certain monsters, little cliff notes about her hunts, a few passages and poems, it was all fascinating and I couldn't get enough.

I turn another page and begin reading a passage close to the back when I feel eyes on me. Looking up, I see Dean's gaze moving between the rear view mirror and the road, lingering just a bit too long on the former. I return my eyes back to the books in my lap and try to ignore him, but the feeling of being watched causes my skin to crawl. Waiting a few seconds to see if he would stop, I finally look up when his staring doesn't cease. "You see something you like?" I ask in a serious tone, keeping my forefinger and thumb on the corner of the page I was on.

Dean smirks at this, but shrugs in response. "What you readin'?" His gaze darts down to the books before going back to the road, only coming back to me every so often.

"My mum's journal." I state as I read another passage that was scribbled along the column of the journal page in my mother's hand.

He has a look that plainly says, 'No, really?', waiting for me when I look back up. "What ya reading right now?"

"Ephesians 6:12. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." I recite to him before closing the books and putting them back into my bag that was laying on the floor of the Impala. Opening the suitcase on the floor that was full of my stuff, I grab the sweater on top of the pile and roll it up into a make-shift pillow, placing it down on the back seat.

Unbuckling my seat belt, I turn and lower myself down to the seat, resting my head on the sweater and pulling my feet up so my knees were bent. I can feel Dean's eyes still on me, but I am unable to catch him to doing it because of the angle I was laying. Instead of calling him out on it, I decide to stay quiet and keep the information as leverage for later, knowing that I would eventually use it for something or another.

I stretch my arms above my head as best I could in the space of the car, before dropping them so they were an extra cushion for my head. Squirming around for a few moments, I finally find a comfy position and stay in it, closing my eyes and enjoying the peace. Sam definitely had the right idea with a nap.

My mind is close to shutting off and going into dreamland when Dean clears his throat, almost awkwardly. Peeking an eye open, I look over the seat separating us to see that Dean's jaw was tightly set and his head was facing straight ahead. "What's wrong, Dean?" I ask, honestly curious as to why the sudden non-accidental and totally obvious clearing of the throat.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just something in my throat." He answers a little too quickly, practically screaming that there was something up without down-right telling me that there was in fact something wrong. I just nod and let out a disbelieving 'mm-hmm' and go back to closing my eyes and relaxing.

I stay like that for a few minutes, but of course, the silence had to be broken, and just as I was falling asleep too. Dean shifts in his seat a couple of times before the volume on the radio goes up a notch, not too much, but just enough that it was noticeable. I try to ignore his odd behaviour, but find myself unable to do so when he shifts again and the volume goes up another notch.

I tolerate it for one more time, but just as he goes to do it again, I am shooting up in my seat and reaching over the seat, smacking at the side of his head. "Dean, what the actual fuck?" I question, not letting my eyes leave his face, which was still set squarely.

"It's nothing. Sit back down, Laine, a cop could see you and I could get a ticket." Dean orders, moving both his hands back to the wheel.

I let out a snort at his statement, calling total bullshit considering Dean didn't give a single fuck about what the cops thought and also cause he and Sam impersonated them on a daily basis and got away with it, too. Dean glares at me, but quickly fixes his eyes back on the road. Getting fed up with his shit, I begin crawling over the seat – which was quite awkward might I add – but I eventually manage it.

Flopping down in the seat between Sam and Dean, I turn halfway, bringing my left leg up so it was curled under me, and fix my eyes on Dean in a scrutinizing glare. "Dean, tell me. Now." I say, throwing an arm onto the back of the seat. Dean throws me a hasty look before his eyes dart back to the road, again.

"I would, if there was something to tell." He counters, the edges of his mouth quirking up when I let out a sigh of irritation at his jackass remark.

"Fuck you, too." I growl, pulling on the ends of his hair and grinning triumphantly when he winces at the harsh tugs. "Now, tell me."

Dean's fingers clench and unclench on the steering wheel for a few moments before he lets out a long and loud sigh. "I'm just trying to sort some shit out, and its pissing me off, so I'm being agitated because I'm pissed off about being pissed and its making me even more pissed off." He exclaims in one breath, the last bit confusing me a tad even as I nod along to his words.

"So," I start as I sort out his words in my head so I could relay them back. "Your acting weird because your confused about something, and that said something is making you mad because you can't figure it out? That sound about right?" I ask, hoping that I had summed it up.

Dean contemplates this before nodding slowly. "Yeah, I think so."

I nod again. "Okay, now big question here: what is the thing that you are trying to figure out?" At my question Dean freezes, but is soon shaking his head.

"I'll tell you when I sort it out." He says, letting out a pained laugh when I tug his hair again.

"You're an ass, you know that right?" I hiss, the scowl already forming on my face.

Dean smirks over at me, his eyes swooping down for a second then coming back up to meet mine, mischief flooding the green orbs. "No, but I know you have a nice one." He grins flirtatiously, laughing even more when I smack him on the arm roughly. "You're cute when you're angry." He teases and I smack him again.

"Stop changing the subject!" The words come out in a low growl, not happy with Dean changing the subject so easily.

"I'm not changing the subject." He replies, looking over at me like I had grown a third head.

My scowl deepens and I resist the strong urge to smack him again. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

I am tempted to throw my arms up in the air in frustration, but knowing Dean, he would just use it as another ploy to diverge from the subject at hand even further than what we already where. Instead, a devious smirk starts forming on my lips. "Maybe I'll just have to persuade you to tell me." I shrug casually, as if persuading someone was ever classified as an innocent and everyday act.

"And how would you do that?" Dean mumbles, his eyes clearly trained on the strip of road in front of him. Even when I scoot closer, his gaze doesn't shift once, meaning that I was already getting under his skin.

Reaching a hand out, I rest it on his arm that was closest to me and begin running my fingers up and back down its length, settling on his hand for a moment. "I can think of a few ideas that might work." My voice comes out lower than I thought it would, thoroughly shocking both Dean and I, except Dean's reaction was a little more visible.

"Oh, really?" Dean throws back, still focusing his eyes on the road. Nodding my head a little, I move closer again as my hand moves from his hand to run down his side, this time stopping at his hip.

"Mm-hmm." I hum, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth subconsciously as I let my hand move again, giving it free reign to do as it pleased, which probably wasn't such a great idea. My hand stops at his stomach, letting my fingers dance gently over his stomach–which was very tight and firm under my fingers – and my eyes catch sight of his Adam's apple sliding down slowly.

"If I tell you, will this stop?" Dean inquires, his eyes actually moving over to me this time. We catch gazes and I freeze momentarily, not able to look away from his lips when I catch sight of his tongue running rapidly over the pink flesh multiple times. My hand must have had a whole other agenda, for now it was hovering steadily over the waistband of his jeans, occasionally toying with the rough denim just enough to cause Dean to squirm.

"Do you want it to?" I manage to grind out once I find my voice that was buried under whatever was stirring inside of me.

Dean lets out a deep chuckle and throws me a heated look. "Does it look like I want it to stop?" He raises and eyebrow and let myself return the laugh, catching onto the innuendo behind his words.

If I had ever said karma was a bitch before, I meant it tenfold now; I really shouldn't have called Sam the shaggy dog.

Sam had conveniently chosen this exact moment to stir from his slumber, his eyes opening and a large yawn to escape his lips. A weird feeling courses through my body and before I can even register what is happening and move away from Dean, my body is already performing its necessary tasks and I am away from Dean in the next second, my hands folded neatly in my lap.

"Hey, guys." He yawns, running a hand over his face. "What are you doing up here, Laine?" Sam asks through his post-nap bleariness.

Shrugging, I try to calm my racing heart enough to formulate proper words. "Dean kept pissing around with the radio, so I came up here to keep him in line." I throw out, hoping that it was a decent enough lie.

Thankfully, Sam bought it and accepted it wholeheartedly, leaning back in his seat and running a hand through his long hair. "Okay, then." He shrugs, not questioning my words in any way. Thank God. "How much longer till we get there?"

"Still a few hours to go." Dean replies, his voice returned back to normal as well. Remembering that Dean was still there and what was just happening moments before, my eyes cast down and I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding when I see that there was no 'evidence' suggesting that we had been doing anything but what I had told Sam.

Sam nods and we all fall into a silence that was neither comfortable or awkward and that's how the next few hours went. I couldn't have been happier when we finally pulled up to the cabin that Bobby was currently housed, and I am pretty sure I have never flew out of a car so fast in my life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! How's everyone doing? Funny thing, I remembered that I was supposed to update last night, but the site was being funny, so I couldn't. But now it's back and you guys get a chapter, so cheers to that! Anywho, how are you guys enjoying the story so far? Is it good, bad? What's your favourite part so far? Are the characters good? Let me know in the comments, and please enjoy this next chapter! Much love to you all! :)**

**-Ace**

* * *

**Chapter 6: High School Blues**

"I really hate having to send you two out, considering you just got back, but he seemed pretty adamant about me sending someone to check things out." Bobby explains, removing his trucker cap from his head to scratch it before fastening it back onto his skull.

"How do you know this guy anyway?"

Bobby shrugs casually as he flips the channel on the small T.V. in the corner of the room. "He used to be a hunter, but then he got married and quit the life. He doesn't want to get involved again, so he called and asked if I could send someone out."

I nod, completely understanding where he was coming from, but still slightly irked about him offering us up like we were a freelance service. "But why are you sending me instead of Sam? I haven't been on a hunt in a while." I argue and Bobby just stares over at me with a 'look'.

"Exactly. You need to get back into the habit of working with a team, and this is a great opportunity. Besides, I need Sam here. Gotta take care of a few things." At his statement, I give Bobby a quizzical look, but he just brushes me off. "You're leaving as soon as those idgits come back from the store, so you might want to start packin'."

Huffing silently, I turn on my heel and walk to the back of the cabin where my stuff was already unpacked and put away in a dresser drawer. With a sigh, I start repacking my bag, regretting having unpacked in the first place.

About half an hour later, the boys return with a few plastic shopping bags in their hands and a couple of cases of beer. I help Dean unpack the groceries and place them in their respective spots while Sam and Bobby went outside to do something. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey out of one of the bags, I turn to Dean as I read the label. "Bobby's sending us out on a case." I state, setting the bottle in the cabinet with the rest of the hard liquor.

Dean stops putting things in the fridge to turn his head and look at me. "What? When?" He asks as he turns back to the fridge, a small shudder running through him when he sees a package of veggie burgers in the freezer. "Damn, Sam and his healthiness."

A laugh a little at this before remembering bis question. "Right after we're done doing this, I guess." Dean sighs at my statement, the fridge door slamming shut as he stands up with two beers in his hand.

He offers me one, and I take it gratefully, popping the cap off on the edge of the counter. "Do you know where we're going?"

I follow Dean into the small back room where the beds were located, drinking my beer and watching him as he shoves some stuff into a duffel bag. "Denver, Colorado." I reply with fake enthusiasm, taking another swig of the drink.

"Bobby is seriously trying to kill us. We just drove for nineteen hours, and he expects another fourteen. Awesome." Dean laughs bitterly, slinging his duffel over his shoulder and walking to the front door. Setting my half-finished beer down on the table, I grab my backpack off the floor and trail after him, closing the door behind me.

Walking away from the cabin a few feet, I see Bobby and Sam off to my left, Bobby's torso vanishing from sight underneath the body of a rusted red 1969 Mustang with Sam sitting on a lawn chair, talking away and drinking a Bud Light. Reaching into a pocket on my bag, I pull out a pair of sunglasses, throwing them over my eyes to shield them from the mid-morning sun.

"We're gonna head out, see if we can make it there by midnight or so." Dean says and a few moments later, Bobby rolls out from under the hood.

He sits up and wipes at his forehead, smearing a small patch of oil. "Alright, be careful." Bobby nods at us and is about to go back under the hood when he looks over at me, his face brightening as if he just had a very important after thought. "His name is Brent Weston. He said that he would be at the diner by the high school tomorrow morning, so that's probably where you'll find 'im."

"Thanks, Bobby." I smile at him, following after Dean and over to the Impala, tossing my bag into the back before sliding into the passenger seat. With one more nod of goodbye to Sam, Dean was pulling out onto the gravel road that would lead onto the main highway.

Leaning my head against the cool of the glass, I let myself relax and close my eyes, not bothering to tell Dean off when he starts fiddling with the radio, hopelessly trying to find the rock station that he liked to listen to. Instead, I just sit there with my forehead pressing on the glass, watching contently as the mass of trees flew by in a blur of greens.

We eventually pull up outside of a cheap motel in some town around a quarter past midnight, and we were both beat. Crawling out of the Impala, I grab my bag and follow Dean into the front entrance at a sluggish pace. Dean didn't look as tired, but from the way he was slightly shuffling his feet, you could tell that he just wanted to fall over right where he was and go to sleep. He got us a room and soon enough, I was flopping down onto a too soft bed, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"Do you want to have a shower first?" Dean questions, his voice coming from somewhere to the right of me. Unable to bring myself to form words, I shake my head and let out a noise that sounded remarkably coherent, despite my dead state. "You sure?" When I let out that sound again, Dean mumbles an 'Okay,' before going into the bathroom, the door shutting behind him softly.

Rolling over, I stare at the closed door for a few moments before sitting up slowly. I go to stand up and get a drink of water, pressing on my thighs as I did so, but let out a strangled shriek of pain at the pressure I had just put on my thigh. With precise movements, I manage to carefully wiggle out of my pants before sitting back down onto the bed.

Grabbing the end of the gauze, I begin unwrapping it and the closer I got to the center, the bloodier the white material was. When I reach the end and pull it away from my skin, there it was in all its bloody glory; the stitches were ripped apart and the cut was bleeding profoundly.

"Shit." I hiss, throwing the gauze into the garbage before grabbing my bag off the floor and bringing it to rest beside me. Unzipping the front pouch, I pull out my medical kit, taking out the antiseptic, a needle, thread and some new gauze.

Sterilizing the needle first, I let it sit there for a few moments before getting to work on stitching myself up.

I had just tied the end of the thread and was cutting off the excess when Dean came out of the bathroom, a towel scrubbing at his wet hair. His eyes dart (darted) from my face down to my thigh, which I was currently wrapping up with gauze and sealing the end with tape.

"How was your shower?" I ask him, not really paying much mind to his presence. Ripping the tape with my teeth, I press it down onto the end of the bandage and run my fingers over it, making sure it was securely placed.

"For a motel shower, it has got amazing water pressure." He admits as he throws the towel over to me so I could wipe the wet blood off my fingers, settling down on his bed and throwing his arms behind his head.

"That's good." I mumble, letting the towel drop onto the floor as I lay back on my bed, turning slightly so I could look over at Dean. "Hey, have you figured out your dilemma?"

Dean shakes his head, grinning. "Have I told you what it is?" When I grumble no, Dean laughs. "Then I haven't solved it yet."

Sighing, I slide under the covers, rolling onto my back. "Goodnight, Dean." Was all I say before flicking the bedside lamp off, turning over so I was facing the wall.

"Aw, you don't want to talk to me anymore?" Dean pouts, but I could clearly hear the smirk in his tone.

Grabbing a pillow from beside me, I lob it over to where I assume his head would be. I must have been accurate, for there is thud followed by Dean cursing. "Goodnight, Dean." I say again, this time closing my eyes and tuning out the world, quickly falling asleep.

"So, you're telling me that you saw a large man with long hair and wings?" Laine stares at the woman with sceptical eyes, but listening intently, because in her profession, anything could be true. The middle-aged woman nods furiously while dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, a small hiccup coming from her mouth. "Okay, what can you tell me about Karen Davies?"

Another hiccup of a sob sounds and the woman's eyes tear up again, her tissue right there to catch the falling moisture. "Karen was a great woman, a devoted mother and an amazing friend and colleague. She didn't deserve to die." She sighs.

Nodding, Laine reaches over the table and places a hand over the woman's. "Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt Karen?" At her statement, the woman begins sputtering and shaking her head.

"Everyone loved Karen. I don't think there was a person in this city that didn't know her somehow. I don't see why anyone would want to hurt her, anyway." She huffs with a swipe at her eyes, pushing away more tears. The woman falls silent for a moment, her head dipped, before she looks up and meets Laine's eyes. "Well, there was one person who didn't like her."

Laine perks up at this information, urging her to continue. "She works at the high school with Karen, her name is Melissa Jones. It's been a while since it happened, but the two never got along after Karen got engaged to Tom."

"And who's Tom?"

"Karen's husband. Before he met Karen, he was seeing Melissa, then he met Karen and broke it off with Melissa. She was heartbroken, maybe even a little vengeful. She threatened Karen in the middle of a staff meeting once."

Laine nods along with the woman's words, her eyes darting behind her to see Dean approaching. She lets the woman finish before standing up, reaching inside her pocket to pull out a card. "Well, thank you for your time and information. If you think of anything else, please don't be afraid to give me a call." Laine smiles kindly at the woman, handing the card with her number on it.

"Of course." The woman complies, returning the smile before turning and walking in the opposite direction of which Dean was approaching from. Dean mumbles a 'hello' to the passing woman, coming to a stop in front of Laine.

Shoving her hands in the pockets of her slacks, she kicks a rock on the ground. "Did you find anything out?"

Dean shrugs, looking around before leaning in closer. "The vic was pregnant."

"And?" Laine questions, confused as to his statement.

"Her stomach was cut open all the way down to the uterus, and guess what was missing? Give you a hint: it was funny looking and little." Dean explains as the two begin walking in the direction of the Impala. Their next stop was the school where Karen worked, hoping they would find something there.

"The thing that killed her took the baby?"

When Dean nods, a wave of nausea washes over Laine, her eyes screwing shut to will it away. "Cut it right out of her. The coroner said she was alive when it happened." He mutters with a repulsed look on his face, but it soon disappears with a firm shake of his head.

Climbing into the passenger seat, Laine turns to Dean, contemplation crossing her features. "How are you sure that we even have a case? This could just be another psycho who likes unborn children." She explains, running the facts they had over in her head, hoping to figure something out.

Dean shrugs, handing Laine a thin folder. "I'm not, but we have to at least check it out. Did you get anything out of the witness?"

"Not much," Laine says, her fingers thumbing through the few pieces of paper inside the folder. "But there is one woman that I think we should talk to. Her name is Melissa Jones, and from what that lady told me, she is a little whacked up in the head. She was a colleague of Karen's."

"I guess we're going to be making a visit to a certain teacher then."

"Guess so."

"This brings back memories." Laine mumbles, her eyes roaming around the grounds of the high school, taking in everything. Nothing had changed from when they went here fourteen years ago; the brown bricks were still donned with graffiti in certain spots, the front doors were still a dark and peeling blue and the flag pole still had the engravings they had made one drunken night.

From beside her, she hears Dean sigh. "You got that right." He replies, holding the front door open for her. Walking in, she grimaces at the sight of the pastel yellow lockers lined against the wall.

"They still have no sense of colour coordination, though." She laughs, running her hand against the pale wall as they make their way down the deserted halls towards the classroom that belonged to Melissa Jones.

Dean chuckles and nods his head in agreement, the two falling into silence as they walk the halls of their old high school. After a few minutes of walking, they reach the classroom and waltz right in, not bothering to knock. Sure enough, Melissa was sitting at her desk grading papers.

"Melissa Jones?" Dean clears his throat, earning him the confused attention of Ms. Jones.

"Yes?" She squeaks, her grey eyes darting between the two suited individuals.

"I'm Agent Collins, and this is my partner Agent Roberts. Would you mind if we asked you a couple of questions regarding the murder of Mrs. Karen Davies?" Dean introduces with a flash of his badge, not waiting for any answer before he takes a seat on top of a desk.

"Uh, of course not." Melissa nods, her eyes still darting around every few seconds as she grabs the papers and places them inside her desk. "What kind of questions?"

"Just normal procedure, seeing that you knew the victim." Laine takes the desk next to Dean, watching Melissa with intent eyes. "How did you know Karen, anyway?"

Melissa shrugs, resting her chin on her knuckles. "We worked together."

Nodding, Laine stands up again and begins pacing around the room, stopping a few times to inspect posters littering the walls. "An eye-witness told us that you and Karen didn't get along too well. Is that true?" She questions, turning her head to look at the woman sitting at the desk.

"Well...it was more of a friendly rivalry than anything else." She admits, her eye twitching quickly, almost too quick to notice, but Laine does.

Dean chooses this moment to butt in, pulling Melissa's attention to him. "Was it a reciprocated rivalry, or was it one-sided?"

Melissa's eyes widen at his statement before a look of contempt captures her face. "Are you accusing me of something, Agent?" She hisses, her hands clenching on themselves.

Dean ducks his head and smirks, wiping off the grin when he looks back up. "No, I'm just asking a simple question. I never accused you of anything." He explains while his gaze stays trained on the woman, watching for any sudden movements.

Melissa lets out an indignant huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't see where you're going with this, but if this is all you need to ask of me, I have papers to grade." She states, the pitch of her voice lowering an octave or two.

Dean shakes his head and goes to say something back, but Laine lays a hand on his arm, turning to Ms. Jones with a smile on her face. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Jones. We'll be out of your hair now. Have a nice day." Grabbing Dean by the elbow, she practically drags him out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

Once they were a good ways down the hallway and out of sight of Melissa's classroom, she stops and turns to face Dean. "Did you see the way she was acting? It was like she was hiding something." Laine says, her eyebrows drawing together in concentration and confusion. "Do you think she did it?" She asks after a few moments of thought.

Dean shrugs, pushing Laine in the direction of the front doors. "I don't know, but there is a way to find out."

"How?" Laine shoves the doors open and walks out, twisting her head to look at Dean over her shoulder and waiting for his reply.

"Search her house."

***May 16, 1997***

"Laine! Hurry up!" Dean shouts, his fist rapping on the door furiously. She had been in there for little over an hour; he couldn't begin to fathom what she was doing in there for so long. When she doesn't answer, a loud breath of air fumes out of his lungs. "If you don't come out in the next five seconds, I'm coming in." Dean threatens as he bangs on the wooden surface of the bathroom door.

Still, he receives no reply to suggest that she had complied, or even heard him for that matter. Quickly succumbing to the need to use the washroom and also getting fed up with being ignored, Dean sticks true to his words. "I'm coming in!"

With his hand on the doorknob, he twists and pushes the door open, revealing a smirking teenage girl. "Patience is a great virtue Dean." She teases as she slips past him, leaving the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears. An annoyed grunt escapes his lips as he walks into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

When he emerges from the bathroom, he can hear soft laughter and two voices coming from the adjacent kitchenette. Making his way over there, his eyes land on the table to see his brother and Laine barely sitting in their chairs for they were doubling over in laughter.

"What are you two giggling about?" Dean questions as he sits down next to them, snatching a sausage off the plate in front of Sam and quickly shoving it into his mouth.

They both calm their laughter to the best of their abilities, goofy grins still plastered on their faces. "Laine just got checked out by the repair man." Sam explains, shielding his plate from Dean's grabbing hands.

"Oh, really?" Dean swallows the sausage in a large gulp, smirking over at the woman in question. "Did you give him a show?"

"Dean!" Laine screeches, a look of horror on her face, the tips of her ears turning a soft shade of red.

The younger Winchester laughs as he takes a bite of toast. "Well, you kind of did." He admits lowly, immediately shielding his face and deflecting the pieces of breakfast that were being thrown his way.

Her face becomes an even deeper shade of red at Sam's blunt statement. "I did not! He just happened to be walking past our room's window as I was cleaning the coffee off the floor." Laine explains, her heated face slowly returning to its original colour.

"I wish I would have been here to see it." Dean states, sending the woman sitting next to him a flirtatious wink.

Dean watches with amusement as she looks down, the colour quickly returning to her cheeks. She stares down at her lap for a few seconds before looking back up slowly. When she catches sight of the look that was being sent her way, her eyes dart in another direction, refusing to meet his eyes.

A small bit of laughter slips from his mouth as he stands up, grabbing his leather jacket off the back of the chair. "If you kids are ready, let's go get today over with." Dean grumbles, sliding the jacket onto his frame.

Sam and Laine both follow suit, placing their dishes in the sink and grabbing their jackets and bags. "I'm not a kid." Laine exclaims, poking Dean in the chest, hard.

"I could beg to differ." Dean taunts, knowing full well that it bugged Laine when she was called a child when she clearly wasn't. Even with one glance at her, you could tell that she truly was a woman; there was no doubt about that.

She huffs loudly, going to poke him again, but Dean grabs her and stops the assaulting finger. "Dean, let go." Laine demands with a few tugs of her hand, but he refuses to let go.

"Why should I?" He doesn't bother to keep the want off his face when he locks eyes with her. Something in the way she looks at him made him shiver, his mouth parting slightly at the warm sensation forming in his stomach.

"Dean, please." She exclaims, tugging. "We need to get going. Sam's already outside waiting for us."

Dean grins and leans in a little closer, their faces only a few inches apart. "Let him wait." He whispers, his voice low.

"Not now, Dean." Her words were mumbled as she slips her wrist from his grip. With her hand finally free, she turns and walks out of the motel room. Dean watches the sway of her hips as she walks away, groaning softly when the door closes behind her.

Running his hand through his hair, he growls through clenched teeth. Why did this keep happening whenever she was around? Why couldn't he just keep his hands off her? More thoughts of Laine start to fill his mind, but he quickly brushes them off. He didn't have the time, nor resolve, to continue thinking about her.

With another sigh, he grabs the keys to the room off the coffee table and makes his way out of the motel, slamming the door as he exits; leaving his thoughts of Laine behind in that room until they returned.

Today was a new day, a new school they had to attend for the next month and he sure as hell did not want to start it off by having inappropriate thoughts about his lifelong best friend.

"Class, please welcome our new students. Dean Winchester and Laine Everett." The teacher addresses the teenagers sitting in the desks, motioning to the two people standing next to him.

They were just shy of a month away from graduating and being free from the high school scene, yet Dean had no intention of finishing. He wanted out of it as soon as possible, and he didn't need to know how to calculate the mass of a mole, so what did it matter if he dropped out; all that mattered was that Sammy and Laine got their educations.

Dean didn't pay much attention to what the teacher was yammering about, instead he found himself letting his eyes wander around the room, spotting a few girls that would be great distractions and ways to pass the time quicker. A sharp jab in his rib cage jolts him from his daze. Looking to his right, he sees Laine nodding her head towards the mass of students before she weaved her way through the desks towards the middle where a free spot was. He followed soon after, taking the seat next to her and behind some pretty brunette.

Leaning forward in his seat, he taps the girl on her shoulder. She quickly turns around, a bright smile forming on her face when her eyes swoop over him. He finds himself grinning back at her when he speaks. "Do you have a pen I could borrow?"

The girl nods and turns around, pulls something out of a small bag before facing him again. "My name's Sophie." She smiles while handing over the pen, her hand lingering a little bit longer than necessary.

Dean brushes those thoughts away and takes the pen in his hand. "Dean." He answers with a grin just in time before the teacher starts his lecture for the day, dragging everyone's attention towards the front.

He absentmindedly begins chewing on the end of the pen, only bothering to stop and pull his eyes away from staring out the window to look over to his right. Laine shakes her head, ripping her eyes from him and flashing him a strained smile before turning to the teacher, devoting her full attention to the man.

Shrugging, Dean starts chewing on the pen again while paying half a mind to what the teacher was saying. Soon enough, the class was over and he was moving on to his next, anticipating the moment when the day would be over and he could fall down onto an uncomfortable bed.

"Hey, Sophie right?" He questions when the girl from his first period class sits down in front of him on the bleachers.

"Yup, that's me." She grins, twirling a piece of brown hair around on her finger.

"What can I do for you?" At his question, the girls eyes light up before her cheeks take on a pink tint.

She eyes dart around the area, focusing on anything but him until she speaks. "Well...there is this party tonight, and I was wondering...if you...uh, maybe wanted to go with me?" She stutters out, looking up at him through heavy lashes.

"Yeah, sure." Dean replies, smirking when the girl's eyes widen considerably. She grins back and stands up from the bleachers, dusting her pants off.

"So, I'll see you tonight then?" When Dean nods, she smiles brighter. "Awesome, well it's at the house by the convenience store on twenty-second street. It's pretty hard to miss. Bye, Dean." Sophie explains and gives a wave before bouncing away and back towards the school.

Dean lets out a low whistle and leans back against the bleachers, looking up at the crystal clear sky. "You can come out now." He says, not bothering to avert his gaze from the sky.

A few seconds later, he feels a presence next to him. Looking to his left, he sees Laine sitting there, staring out onto the football field where some students were practising. "I see you got yourself a date." She mumbles in a sharp tone.

He shrugs his shoulders, pushing himself up so he could prop his elbows on the bleacher seats. "I see that you were eavesdropping." A small smirk forms on his face when Laine hits him in the stomach.

"Was not! I just happened to walk up at the exact moment she was asking you out." She defends herself, huffing loudly when Dean laughs.

"Uh-huh, right." Dean teases, earning himself another smack to the abdomen. The two collapse into silence, both of them just staring towards the football field. "Hey...do you want to come?"

Laine averts her eyes from the field, turning to lock on to Dean. "Are you serious?" She questions, disbelief clearly evident in her voice. Dean resists the urge to smirk at this, instead shrugging nonchalantly.

"Yeah, why not? Sophie never said I couldn't bring anyone." Dean states, watching as Laine's face lights up like fireworks on New Years until it falls again, a frown replacing the small upturn of her lips.

"Someone needs to watch Sam."

"Sam is staying late at school, he has a project to finish with a classmate." Dean stares at Laine closely, hoping his words would make her agree. For some reason unbeknownst to him, he wanted Laine at that party. "So, will you come?"

Laine opens her mouth, then closes it, and opens it again. A grin forms on Dean's face and he stands up, ruffling Laine's hair as he walked down the rows of bleachers. "Awesome. See ya later, Laine." He hums happily, not waiting for her reply, as he heads back towards the school.

The day wasn't even over yet, and so far, it was all looking upwards. For once in his life, he was almost happy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys, sorry for the late update. I've been busy with school and I was waiting on my beta to get the chapter back to me. Oh yeah, I got a new beta: GnskE! So, thank you GnskE for beta-ing for me, I really appreciate it. :) Anywho, please enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think! Much love to you all!**

**-Ace**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Crime Scene Investigation**

"Nothing in here!" I call out to Dean, who was in Melissa's room doing a quick sweep. Walking towards the bedroom, I hear some rustling and a drawer sliding shut, Dean appearing a few seconds later with a set of red lingerie in his hands.

He holds it up for me to see, his own eyes inspecting the silk and lace. "She was a dirty school teacher." Dean smirks widely when I snatch the fabric – if it could even be called that – out of his hands, throwing it over his head and back into the room.

"Dean, behave. We're on a case here, not a trip to the lingerie store." I chastise as I pull out one of the drawers in the stand by the front door, rummaging through the contents.

I hear Dean laugh and make his way over to me, leaning against the wall and watching me. "You know, we should totally do that sometime." He suggests, shrugging innocently when I send him a hard glare.

"No." I state simply, dropping my eyes back to the stack of letters in my hands.

Dean groans and pushes off the wall, opting to walk around behind me and lean against me, one hand snaking past me to rest on the table. "Come on, Laine. It's not like you've never been to a lingerie shop; considering your profession." Dean points out, his breath tickling my neck when he leans over my shoulder to look at the papers in my hands.

Hip checking him away from me, I look over my shoulder and give him my best blank look. "No, I haven't. My employers bought everything for me." I state in a matter-of-fact tone.

This shuts Dean up; either from surprise, or just not knowing how to respond, I don't know, but it made me smile. Ducking my head down again, I shuffle through the letters, bills and other things until I reach one that looked like it might be important. I spin around to face Dean, who was standing next to the window, and hold the letter up, waving it around.

"What's that?" Dean asks, eyeing the white envelope.

Walking over to Dean, I hand him the envelope. "It's a bill for a subscription to a local herbalist paper." I state as Dean rips the letter open, pulling out a single piece of paper and reading it over.

"You think that she's into some dark stuff? Maybe she just likes her plants." Dean jokes, passing the letter back to me.

"Maybe, but I'm not so sure." I admit. There was feeling in my gut, a strong one, that said that Dean might not be right. Brushing it off, I take the few steps across the room to place the letters back into the drawer, closing it softly.

Turning around, I lean against the table and open my mouth to say something, but the sound of keys jingling and a lock twisting interrupts me. "Shit." I hiss, rushing over to Dean and unlocking the window he was standing in front off, pushing the frame upwards once the latch was removed.

Popping my head out the open window, I see our escape route unfolding before me. I step back a couple inches before hooking a leg out, leaning out further until my foot touched the shingles on the garage. Planting my foot down, I let my body follow my leg out, ushering Dean to do the same, and quickly.

Just as the door was opened and Melissa's face popped out from around the corner by the door, Dean was flopping out of the window and onto the garage with me. Grabbing his arm, I pull him around the corner of the wall of the house and flush against my side and out of the sight of the window. I wait a few seconds before peeking my head around the corner of house to see the retreating head of Melissa as she closes the window.

Letting out the breath I had been holding since the door opened, my body sags against the wall and leans onto Dean's. With my eyes closed, I try to calm my racing heart and erratic breathing. "I think I need a drink." I mumble out, earning me a muffled laugh from Dean.

"I think that can be arranged." Dean replies while pushing himself up off the roof, grabbing my hand and pulling me up with him. "Let's get out of here first."

"Please." I huff as we carefully make our way off the roof and down the street, back to the safety of the Impala.

* * *

It was around five o'clock when we got the call from the Police Department (saying) that there was another murder. We didn't waste any time getting down to the park where the murder happened; I'm pretty sure Dean might have broken a couple speed laws.

Climbing out of the Impala, I follow Dean and flash my badge at the office guarding the yellow tape, slipping under it when he gives us clearance. The chief officer who called us spots us immediately, making his way around the crime scene and over to Dean and I. "Thank you for coming, both of you." He greets when he reaches us.

"It's no problem, really." I reply, casting my eyes over to the crime scene behind him where the forensics team was currently working. "Who was it this time?"

"A woman in her early twenties, Mrs. Jenny Ferison." He explains, leading us over to one of the officers who handed him a file, which he then handed over to Dean. "According to her husband, they were taking their daughter to the park when Jenny disappeared. He didn't know where she went, until he heard a scream from the trees over there. He went to see what was going on, only to find his wife dead. Poor man." The office says, shaking his head sadly.

"Is the husband still here?" Dean questions, tucking the file under his arm once he was done looking it over. The officer nods, pointing over to the ambulance a few feet away. Dean leans down, whispering "I'm going to go and talk to him, see if he saw anything important," in my ear before walking away.

With a nod, I turn my gaze to the officer. "Would it be alright if I went and had a look at the body?" When he gives his conformation, I state my thanks and excuse myself, heading over to the forensics team.

"I'm here to look at the body." I say once I am standing next to one of the men who is going over some notes.

He lifts his head and looks me over before shrugging, moving a finger to point at the black bag behind him. "Knock yourself out." He snarks, looking back down at his notepad right after.

Muttering a sarcastic 'thanks', I brush past him and stroll over to the body bag, grabbing the zipper and dragging it open. Pushing the flaps back, I grab a pair of rubber gloves from my pocket and slip them on before letting my hands roam over the body, looking for any clues that might suggest what killed her.

Hitching up her blood soaked shirt, my eyes widen slightly at the sight of a jagged cut that ran the length of her stomach. Slowly, and a little apprehensively, I pull the skin back, revealing a gaping hole. A hole that I am pretty sure was holding something.

"Hey, you." I shout over my shoulder, waiting for notepad guy to look back.

When he finally does, he has a prominent scowl on his angular face. "What?" He snaps, a slight glare in his eyes.

Sighing, I suppress my need to put him in his place and instead focus on the question I am supposed to ask. "Was she pregnant?" I ask, watching as the man looks down back to his notepad. Just when I start to think that he was ignoring me, he looks back up and nods.

"She was just over nine weeks. Is that all you needed?" He asks with clear irritation in his voice. Returning his glare, I nod stiffly.

"Yeah." I respond, turning back to the body and about to zip up the bag when something sticking out of the incision catches my eye. Reaching into the slice, I grasp the curved black thing and wriggle it free, removing it from the flesh. I hold it between my thumb and forefinger, moving it at different angles to get a better look at it.

I close my fist around what I was assuming was a claw and pull my gloves off. Tucking them securely into my pocket, I step away from the body bag, looking around the area until my eyes land on Dean who is talking to the husband.

I make my way over, stopping a few feet behind the man so Dean could finish what he was talking about. His eyes land on me and he continues talking for a few moments, suddenly excusing himself from the man and slipping past him to walk over to me. "Did you find anything out?" He asks when he reaches me.

Nodding, I start walking away and back towards where the Impala was parked. "She was pregnant."

Dean gets a look of semi-realization on his face as he falls into step with me. "Just like the other two victims." He exclaims and I nod, confirming his statement.

Stopping, I reach into my pocket and pull out the claw that was wrapped in my glove. "I also found this embedded in the body, along the incision in her stomach." I hold out the claw for him to see and he nods, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, we continue walking towards the Impala.

"I think you were right about this being a case." I say, climbing into the passenger seat while Dean climbs into the driver's seat. "But the question is, what are we dealing with?"

Dean shrugs as he pulls away from the curb, pulling into traffic and cruising with the flow of it. "I'll call Bobby and send him the picture, see what he and Sam know about baby eating monsters, if there are any. In the meantime, I think it's time for some well-deserved chow."

* * *

A half hour later, we were sitting in a quaint little diner a few miles from the motel we were staying in and enjoying a warm meal. Dipping a fry in some sauce, I tear off the end with my teeth and chew it while reading over the dessert menu.

"That looks delicious." I mumble, showing Dean the pamphlet and pointing at the chocolate and caramel trifle, my mouth watering at the sight of the dessert.

"That it does." He replies, chewing on a large bite of the burger he had ordered. Looking up from the laminated paper, I put on my best pleading look. Dean meets my gaze, groaning loudly which sounds quite funny coming from his food filled mouth. "And you want it."

A guilty giggle escapes me and I shrug, leaning back in my seat as I sip at my drink. "Mm-hmm." Dean shakes his head at my response, turning in his seat and searching the diner. A few moments later, he's motioning one of the waitresses over.

"What can I get for you?" She chirps, stopping in front of our table. Her eyes were completely glued to Dean, only flitting over to me for a moment; even during that one second, her stare wasn't nice, at all.

Dean does that grin of his that makes girls turn to goo; you know, that one that made you want to crawl into bed with him and do whatever he asks. Yeah, that one, and he is using it on the waitress right now. "Hi, we'll get the Caramel Lava Cake, please." He orders, smiling up at the woman.

When she leaves, I let out a laugh. Dean looks over at me, raising an eyebrow at my sudden outburst, silently asking me what the hell was wrong with me. "Laying the charm on a little thick?"

Dean shrugs at my statement, shifting his grin towards me. "I know how you are if you don't get your sweets." He explains and I just nod, agreeing one hundred percent with what he said.

"Well, thank you then." I say, finishing off the last of my drink. We fall into simple, everyday conversation for a few minutes until the waitress comes back with the plate containing my delicious looking cake and two forks.

"Here you are." She says, placing the plate down in the center of the table. She goes to turn around, but stops and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a piece of paper and setting it down in front of Dean. "Enjoy your dessert." With one last smile to Dean and a glare to me, she walks away.

Picking up a fork, I poke it into the cake and pull away a large piece of cake, shoveling it into my mouth. I let out a full blown moan as the taste of melted caramel and moist chocolate explodes in my mouth, and I almost want to hide my face in my hands when Dean laughs at the noises I am making. "What? It's good." I argue, placing another decently sized piece into my mouth, this time not voicing my pleasure at the taste as loudly as before.

"I wasn't judging." Dean defends himself and I look up to see him staring at me. Chewing the cake in my mouth, I swallow it quickly and nod my head down at the slip of paper sitting in front of him.

"Her number, right?" I ask and Dean looks over the paper, nodding immediately after. "You gonna call her?"

Dean shakes his head, crumpling the paper in his hand and tossing it to the side of our table. "Nope," When I give him a questioning look, he leans back in his seat and smirks at me. "I've got a much more beautiful woman sitting right in front of me."

I feel my ears heat up at his blunt statement, squirming awkwardly in my seat. Grabbing the extra fork, I push it and the plate of cake towards Dean, urging him to take a bite before I eat it all. I also might have been trying to divert the attention from myself.

Dean's gaze was on me for the rest of the time we were at the diner, and pretty much the entire way back to the motel. The moment that I became free from Dean's stare was when I went to have a shower and Dean went to the convenience store just down the street to get some snacks and a case of beer. By the time I got out of the shower and was in some comfy sweats and a loose tank top, Dean was back and was laying on his bed with his eyes closed and his arms behind his head.

I rub the towel against my head, trying to absorb the excess moisture and speed up the drying process as I walk out into the main area and towards the bed that was mine for the time being. Dropping on to the too soft mattress, I watch as Dean stays still as stone, his chest moving in time with his breathing being the only indication that he was even alive at all.

Removing the towel from my head, I stand up and walk over to the kitchenette. I open the fridge and peer inside, grabbing one of the beer cans that was inside before making my way back over to the beds, this time sitting down on Dean's.

Pulling the tab, I take a swig before twisting to face Dean, holding the beer out to him. His right eye peeks open and he looks up at for a second, then down to the beer, placing his hand under my wrist to bring it towards his mouth, taking a drink out of the can. He closes his eyes again and I turn to place the can on the nightstand. Rolling back over, I lean my head against the wall, smiling lightly when Dean reaches a hand out to grasp mine.

"I missed this," I mumble, tracing the back of Dean's hand with my thumb. "I missed you."

Dean lets out a hum of what I am assuming is agreement, squeezing my hand with little force. "I know." He mumbles back after a few beats of silence. "When we went to the high school today..." He starts, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah?" I ask, twisting more on to my side so I could see Dean's face. Both his eyes open this time, meeting mine quickly after.

"I remembered the time that we went there."

Nodding, I follow Dean's movements as he removes his hand from mine, instead trailing his fingers over the flesh of my hand and wrist. "Graduation. That was the night you kissed me for the second time." I point out, nodding my head when Dean gives me a funny look.

"Second time?" He asks. "What was the first?"

"Remember your tenth birthday?" When he shakes his head, I continue. "You fell out of the tree at the park and thought you were dying, but you had only broken your arm. And your nose."

"How did I break my nose? I don't remember that." Again, he looked clueless. This boy really did suck with long term memory.

Snickering, I grin down at him. "I broke it because you stole my first kiss." Dean laughs at my confession, returning my grin with his own brighter one.

"I was your first kiss?" He questions and I just nod, the corners of my lips tugging down when he smirks. "I did not know that, but I think it was definitely an accomplishment."

"Shut up!" I hiss, smacking him directly on his chest.

"What? You can't blame me." Dean states as he pushes himself up into a half-sitting, half-laying position that is a mirror of my own.

"Oh really? And why is that?" I ask while my eyes flicked down to where his left hand was making its way up my thigh and stopping at my hip.

Dean shrugs and catches my gaze, his eyes moving from my eyes down to my lips every few seconds. "Well, you did initiate the kiss." He says and I gasp in mock disbelief.

"You, mister, were the one who initiated it." I point out, denying what he said. My voice quiets down as I remember something about that night. "But, I may have been the one who continued it." The words come out slowly and a small grin forms on my face.

"Exactly." He replies, his hand now moved up to my shoulder and (was) still moving towards my neck.

"But that's not saying that you didn't enjoy every second of it."

Dean nods, his eyes moving down to my lips again and I copy the movement, watching with intent eyes as his tongue darts out to sweep over his lips in a swift movement. "You got that right." He smirks and by now, his hand is cupping the back of my neck and he is halfway on top of me.

I close my mouth, not able to formulate proper words at the moment, and just gaze up at Dean. There was something in his eyes, eyes that were entirely trained on me, something that I can't begin to fathom. Reaching my hand up, I trace my thumb over the outline of his jaw, scratching the pad of it with his stubble.

"We aren't talking about graduation night anymore." He catches my wrist with his hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the inside of it. Shaking my head, I nudge my knee between his legs, resulting in him landing fully on top of me with his arms on either side of my head.

"Definitely not." I murmur, snaking my arms up and around his neck, catching the hair at the nape of his neck between my fingers. Dean chuckles, ducking his head for a moment before looking back up, his eyes flashing in a dangerous way. He inches closer, his mouth in perfect range to do what I want to do, yet he stops a couple inches away from touching me.

"What?" Leaning back to get a clear view of his face, I scrunch up my nose in confusion when he smiles and shakes his head.

"Nothing," Another smile. "You're just different from what I remember."

"Different?" I ask, still confused, as I play with the ends of his hair.

"Well, not different, just..." He trails off, like he is trying to find an appropriate word that could replace it.

"Different?" I repeat, this time the word sounding offering rather than questioning.

Nodding, he dips his head lower, brushing his nose feather light against mine. "Yeah, different." He agrees with a nod of his head, his hand tightening a smidgin on my hip.

"Good different or bad different?" When I ask that question, Dean smirks and moves his face closer to mine, lips barely touching.

"Definitely good different." He admits, pressing our mouths together in one swift movement.

A low hum builds up in my throat as my hands slide from around his neck, slipping down his chest only to catch on the hem of his shirt, traveling under the fabric and feeling up along the curves of his abdomen and hips. While my hands were exploring his very aesthetically pleasing middle section, his hands were going along with his agenda. When his cold hands find their way under my shirt, an involuntary squeak slips past my lips at the sudden contact. "Dean." I hiss, squirming under his icy touch.

"Sorry." He mumbles against my lips, taking the opportunity to dart his tongue inside my opened mouth. Despite his cold hands, things start to heat up pretty quickly.

In the short time of a few minutes, my shirt was off and somewhere on the floor, my sweats were hanging low on my hips, Dean's shirt was off and discarded somewhere on the other side of the room, and his belt and pants were unbuckled. Overall, this was not the way I was planning to spend my Tuesday night, but I have absolutely no qualms on continuing.

Dean's lips were now on my neck, nibbling and mouthing at the flesh between my neck and shoulder, leaving more evidence that Sam would have a great time bugging me about. Speaking of Sam, he better not be the one on the phone right now, or I'm going to kill him when we get back to Bobby's.

Dean pulls back with a very aggravated growl, reaching across me to grab his phone off the nightstand, clicking a button and holding it to his ear. "What?" He hisses, and I am pretty sure there is a laugh from the other end. Dean quiets and listens to the voice on the other end, the scowl on his face deepening. "Yes, you did actually."

Sitting up, I lean my head on Dean's shoulder in an attempt to hear the conversation better. Going by the voice, it sounded like Bobby, but I couldn't be sure. It could also be Sam. I listen to the conversation, trying to pick up what was being said.

"That claw picture you sent us," Sam's voice carries through the phone. I wonder what he said to Dean when he first answered the phone. "Well, according to the internet and Bobby's books, it belongs to a creature called the Aswang. They're a vampire-witch like monster that originates from the Philippines. They feed on children and unborn fetuses." He explains.

As Dean begins speaking, his free hand grabs mine, pulling me around his body and on to his lap. A small smile breaks out on my face as I straddle his hips, wrapping my arms around his neck as he runs his fingers up and down my bare sides. "Ask him how we find it." I mumble, pressing my lips on the corner of Dean's mouth.

"Laine's wondering how we kill it." Dean states, which earns him Sam's reply of, "I can hear her, Dean."

"We haven't found that yet, but we will soon. Don't worry." Sam says after stopping for a moment to listen to Bobby, who's voice could be heard in the background.

Sighing, Dean pulls me closer and moves his hand from my side down to the hem of my sweats, toying with the edge of the cotton fabric. "Can you tell us how we can find it?" He asks, smirking when I nibble at the lobe of the ear that wasn't glued to a cellphone.

"It's quite hard actually. In human form, they appear normal, besides being a little shy and closed-off to other people. At night, they become the monsters that eat people. So unless you see a monster roaming around and eating people at night, have fun trying to find it." Sam states plainly. "We'll find out more, just don't go rushing in without knowing how to kill it, okay?"

"Yeah, okay Sammy." Dean replies and I accidentally giggle too loudly when Dean's finger skims a ticklish spot on my side.

Sam groans and makes a gagging noise. "Oh, God. Are you two..." Sam starts, but trails off, causing Dean to laugh.

"Goodbye, Sam." He answers, laughing again when Sam groans once more, clicking the phone off. Tossing it back onto the table, Dean grabs my hips and pulls me closer to him, capturing my mouth again. "Where were we?"

Laughing against his mouth, I return the rough touches and eager hands with fervour. "Right here." I mumble, smiling briefly before I am consumed by Dean for the next few hours until it was late enough to start getting some sleep.

* * *

"Dean! Did you take my phone?" I call out, pounding on the bathroom door. The tap shuts off and I hear shuffling before the door opens fully, Dean walking out and giving me a funny look as he brushes past me.

"No, did you leave it in the car?" He asks as he moves over to his bed, reaching into his duffel bag to grab some clothes. Shaking my head, I stroll into the bathroom, picking up my toothbrush, applying toothpaste and stuffing it in my mouth.

A few moments later, Dean appears in the mirror pulling a shirt over his head. "Are you sure?" He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning on the door frame.

Nodding my head, I give my teeth a few more scrubs before leaning down and spitting the remaining toothpaste out of my mouth. I hastily gargle some water, spit it out, and wipe my mouth on the towel on the counter. "I'm sure. Last I remember seeing it was last night at the park." I state, following Dean out into the main area where he hands me my jacket and pulls on his own.

"Maybe you dropped it?" He suggests as I grab a scarf out of my bag, wrapping it around my neck with a shrug at Dean's question. "We could swing by the park before heading to the diner."

"Sure." And with that, we were out the door and making our way to the park on foot.

* * *

"Yes, sir. I've got a lead on them. They're staying at a motel in Denver." The man states, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he stares out the car window, watching the Winchester and the girl leave their motel room and begin walking down the street. "It's only the older one."

He goes silent again, listening to what Edgar has to say. "He's with a girl; I've never seen her before with the Winchesters." He quiets again, listening to the orders coming through the phone. "I'll follow them and find out if she is the one." He states, ending the call and throwing the phone onto the seat beside him.

Shifting the car into drive, he pulls out a few moments after the two people leave his sight, trailing after them at an easy distance.

* * *

It was a no go at the park, with my phone no where in sight, so I had decided against looking for a lost cause and instead opting to just buy a new one later. Dean had agreed, and we had left the park, making our way back to the diner we saw near the park on the way here this morning. We were about two blocks away, with the diner's large sign foreseeable in the distance, when the moody forensic worker from last night stops in front of me, a frown on his face.

"Uh, can I help you?" I ask, eyeing him up when he just stands there, his eyes trained on me. I could feel Dean's muscles tightening next to me, his arm that was brushing against mine moving slightly so it would be easier for him to reach the gun in the back of his pants.

The guy in front of us reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, holding it out to me. "You dropped this last night." He says in an annoyed tone, his fingers flexing slightly like he was getting irritated just standing here talking to us.

Reaching out, I grab the object out of his hand and feel the familiar outline of my phone in my palm. Pocketing it, I send the guy a tiny smile which he doesn't return. "Uh, thanks for returning it." I mumble and he just nods, mumbling a 'yeah, whatever' before brushing past us briskly, not bothering to say anything else.

My eyes follow after him until he rounds the corner of the street and I can't see him anymore, turning back to Dean to see him staring at me. "Who was that?" He raises an eyebrow at me as we begin walking again.

"Just some guy that I met last night at the crime scene." I shrug, thanking Dean when he holds the door of the diner open for me when we reach it.

"Did he seem a little off to you?" We take a seat at one of the available tables near the windows and it is my turn to raise an eyebrow at Dean.

"What do you mean?" Grabbing the menu off the table, I start reading it over, looking up once to see Dean shrug and grab his own menu.

"He just seemed off." He states, not elaborating any further. I go to nod in acceptance of his answer, but stop when I realize what he was hinting at, my mouth forming in a small 'o' shape.

Leaning forward in my seat, I lower my voice so the other occupants of the diner couldn't hear us. "Do you think he's the Aswang?" I question in what I was hoping wasn't an accusing tone, and I think I was hitting right on the money when Dean's mouth tightens into fine lines at the corners in an almost defeated way.

"I don't know, but it's a possibility. You can't rule anyone out yet." He says just as the waitress comes over to take our orders, which consisted of a bacon and egg breakfast burrito for Dean and a plate of French Toast and eggs with a French vanilla for me.

She nods, tells us the wait time for our orders and turns around, heading back to the kitchen. Once she was completely out of sight, Dean resumes the conversation. "Is your phone okay?"

At his question, I remember that I had my phone back, instantly reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone. Pressing the power button, it boots up right away, showing the lock screen. I type in the password and it unlocks, showing my plain background. I start going through my history, my files and anything else on my phone that could have been tampered with. Nothing was out of place and everything was up to par.

"It's fine." I admit, my voice holding a tone of surprise as I shove it back into my coat pocket. "Means I don't have to buy a new one, at least."

The waitress comes back a few minutes later with our food and drinks in her arms, placing them down in front of us. Grabbing my coffee, I bring it to my lips and take a long drink of the steaming liquid, relishing in the warm effects of the caffeine on my body and mind. Dean lets out a laugh as he takes a bite of his food, his eyes trained on me. "What?"

He laughs again, swallowing his mouthful. "You've got a little something there." He says, pointing to his upper lip.

My tongue darts out and immediately hits the sweet taste of whipped cream, cleaning it up in one fluid move of my tongue. "Shut up." I mumble while poking my fork into a cut piece of French toast, shoving it into my mouth.

"I didn't say anything." Dean snickers under his breath when I send him a glare, chewing my food in irritation.

"It's all over your face; you don't need to say anything." I grumble out, swallowing my food and shoving another piece in, beginning to chew that. Dean shrugs and I literally growl at him when his hand move towards my coffee, his stupid fingers wrapping around the cup. He totally ignores my muttered death threats and looks, taking a large gulp of my precious caffeine. I mutter more threats to him even as he is setting the now half-empty cup on the table.

I feel eyes on me, so I look around to see a couple of old ladies sitting behind me staring at me with accusing eyes. Returning their look with a deadly one of my own, I raise an eyebrow at them. "What? He was stealing my coffee, mind your own business." I snap and both their eye's shoot open in astonishment, scowls forming on their pink lips.

When I turn back around, I could still hear them talking about me, saying shit about my attitude and my childhood and how I must have been raised. My personal favourite was something along the lines of, "I bet she's part of one of those cult groups, you know the ones where they sacrifice animals...and people!" The lady directly behind me was the one who whispered that in a not-so-quite voice. I almost burst out into annoyed laughter at her statement, but control myself, instead focusing on Dean.

I snatch a piece of ham off his plate that fell out of his burrito, plopping it into my mouth. "Maybe I should join a cult group, you know? I think I'd be pretty good at it." I mumble sarcastically and Dean sighs in a knowing way, like he was expecting me to say that.

"Of course you would." He agrees, taking another smaller drink of my coffee and this time I don't threaten him, as bad, just a glare and that was it.

We quickly finish our breakfast, lay some money down on the table, and are about to leave when I stop, telling Dean to wait a moment. Turning around, I walk back over to the table where the perfect haired ladies were sitting, throwing my hands down on the table and leaning into their personal space a little more than what was socially acceptable. They both gasp loudly at my behaviour and I just laugh under my breath, fixing my attention on the lady that said the cult remark. Picking up a knife off the table, I twirl it in my hands.

"You know, my cult doesn't sacrifice just anyone." I start, poking the area around her hand that was resting on the table. "We have a specific taste...want to know what it is?"

The lady looks terrified, her eyes wide and her mouth pressed into a tight line. "Old women with badly permed hair and horrible fashion senses." I smirk, pounding the knife down in between her middle finger and ring finger, just barely grazing the skin.

The woman lets out a horrified squeal and I lean back, a devious smirk on my face. "Have a nice day." I spin on my heeled boots and trot over to Dean, my smirk growing when I see Dean giving me a 'really' look. I just shrug and loop my arm through his, dragging him out of the diner and down the street.

"Well, that was fun." I admit, practically skipping down the street with Dean next to me. He just laughs at my words and walks calmly by my side as I ignore the stares I was getting from passerby's on the street, even waving brightly to a few of them, which really freaked them out and just increased my cheery mood.

Today was so far turning out to be a good day.

We walk a few more blocks in relative silence, conversing lightly, when Dean's phone rings. He answers it with a state of his business name he was using for the case, his face instantly falling from a grin to a frown before he was nodding. "We'll be right there."

Stopping, I turn to look at Dean with questioning eyes. "What's going on?"

"They've found something on the other bodies. They want us to come and check it out." He states, grabbing my hand and pulling me across the road and towards the street that would lead back to the motel.

"Awesome." I mumble, my voice filled with sarcasm, as I trail after him sadly. "Mood officially ruined."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone, how are you? I hope you're all having a good day, and hopefully an even better weekend. :) A big thanks to my beta GnskE for beta-ing this chapter. More love goes out to all you people who read this and add it to your favourites or even are following it. It really means a lot to me to see that people are actually enjoying what I am writing. You guys make me smile. :) Anywho, please enjoy this next chapter and I'll talk to you guys next Thursday! **

**-Ace**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Undistinguished Decoy**

The bodies were both pale and doll-like, the purple tint of their marble skin accented against the metal table they were situated on, with arms resting by their sides and closed eyes staring up at the ceiling in an unseeing transfixed gaze. They both donned identical incisions on their abdomens, the cut running jagged yet precise, as if the assailant meant for it to be a clean mess.

Laine could see that with her own eyes, easily making out the path that the cutting instrument had taken; it started at the top, near their ribs before puncturing lightly, slowly digging deeper until it was locked in tight. It then travelled downward, probably at an agonizing speed, ripping the flesh apart by the seams. It had gotten caught about halfway through, pulled up an inch to relieve it of its fixture before diving in again, not too deep, but deep enough to tear at all the muscle and sinew holding it together. By the time it had reached the end, the cut was made and their was a signature, a calling card almost.

When it reached the end, it stopped for a split second before yanking upwards with a swift motion, pulling a piece of skin with it as it removed itself along with what it was after. They were already dead before the process even had a chance to fully begin and their stomachs were now lined perfectly down the middle, the life they were guarding inside snatched from them without any remorse.

And the whole time it was being done, there was no blood spilling or getting in the way. It was as if the liquid life had been frozen in the veins, unable to pump anything to wherever it needed to be.

That is what confused Laine beyond ends; how this could have happened without the spillage of what every human had flowing inside of them. Even an insignificant paper cut bled at least a little, so how could a gaping wound not spill a drop?

There were three claws left on each of the victims bodies, almost like a signature to the work the monster had made of these women. Like he was proud of what he did and wanted to show his masterpieces off to the world signed with his name so no one else could take recognition for it.

He wanted to be known.

He wanted to be sought out.

He wanted to be found.

* * *

All of the scientists that had been asked to analyze the body and to see if they could find what had stopped the bleeding had come up blank, only getting the results of a paralyzing toxin that hasn't existed for hundreds of years. They all had said for it to be impossible or a fluke, yet every time they tried again, they all came up with the exact same results. It confused them and angered the two hunters.

They finished talking to the examiners as fast as they could, excusing themselves once they had the opportunity and rushing (rushed) out of the morgue and into the vacant hallway.

"This is fucked up." Laine says with a swipe of her hand across her face and through her hair before it falls limp at her side.

"Yeah." Dean agrees, leaning against the wall opposite the morgue doors, a hand shoved inside his pants pocket.

She opens her mouth to say something, but an officer walks past them and she waits until he is rounding the corner down the hall and even a few seconds after that before speaking. "We need to figure out what this thing can do." She states with a nod, grabbing her phone out of her pocket and tapping wildly on the screen. Holding it up to her ear, the sound of ringing resounds through the hallway.

It takes a few moments, but soon enough someone picks ups. "Hey, Laine. What's up?" Sam greets, a yawn following his words.

"I need to know everything about the Aswang. Now." She barks, quickly mumbling a 'sorry' right after. Sam chuckles nervously along with the shuffling of papers and the clicks of a keyboard.

"Give me one minute, okay?" He asks and she nods, even though he can't see it. They both fall silent and Laine lets her hand drop a little, her body sagging in exhaustion. They had been running around all morning, going from the precinct to the hospital to the new crime scene. There was another murder just that morning and another woman had gone missing in that same hour. Things just were not looking up for them.

Laine begins tapping her nails in a rhythmic fashion against the water cooler that was in the hallway as she waits for Sam to speak again, hopefully with good news this time. Dean's eyes fall on her and she feels it more than sees it, but when she looks up from the floor, she can clearly see the message of 'Really? Are you serious?' behind his gaze.

She returns her own stare of 'Yeah, got a problem?' with a quirk of her lips in a challenging manner. Dean shakes his head, a smile toying with the edge of his mouth as he looks away. A huff of triumph builds up in her and as she is about to release it, Sam's voice carries through the line.

"Okay, so there are a few things about them." He starts and Laine sighs; he never was an easy one to get to talk, he always got distracted by what he was reading and would forget about what he was doing.

"Sam, spill it. Stop reading ahead of the rest of the class." Laine scolds, twisting a strand of dark hair around her index finger, letting it fall and then repeating the tedious action.

"Sorry, right. You already now that Aswang become cannibalistic monsters at night..." He trails off and Laine confirms, letting him continue. "Okay, so they kill their prey with the claws on their wings and hands and then eat them. Their teeth are almost like a vampire's teeth." He explains and Laine nods, allowing him to finish before asking her question.

"Does it say anything about a poison or toxin that they have in their bodies?" She asks, holding a hand up when Dean tries to tell her to either put it on speaker or relay to him what Sam was saying.

"Mm, let me see." Sam mumbles and she can practically hear the gears turning and winding in that genius, knowledge-filled, hairy melon of his. "Actually, yeah. There isn't a name for it, but they have a toxin in their body that is ejected through their claws that can severely paralyze anyone who comes into contact with the poison."

Getting fed up with Dean's pestering jabs in the side and constant muttering in the ear about not being able to hear the conversation, Laine tells Sam to hold on a moment before dragging Dean down the hallway and into the ladies washroom, locking the door behind them before jamming her thumb against the speaker button on the phone. "Sorry, Dean was being an ass. Uh, about that toxin stuff. Does it work on skin contact or does it have to be blood contact?"

"It doesn't say in this text, but I'll keep digging around. If I find anything else out, I'll call you guys right away." Sam says, the sound of his voice dimming as the phone switches ears. Laine nods again and goes to say her thanks and hang up when she faintly hears Bobby yell something in the background. "Oh, yeah! We found out how to kill it."

Dean groans and thumps his head back on the surface of the bathroom door. "You couldn't have told us that earlier?" Dean grumbles, rubbing his hand where he just smacked his head.

"Sorry, Dean." Sam says in a grumpy tone. "I forgot, okay? Now, if you're done being an ass, do you want to know how?"

Before Dean can make another dick remark to his brother, Laine holds a finger up to Dean in a shushing motion. "Please." She mutters, sending Dean a pointed look when he swats her hand away.

Instead of Sam's voice replying, it was Bobby's. "Ya gotta stab it through the heart with a silver knife steeped in garlic and Holy water." He explains, putting emphasis on the key parts of that sentence.

"Okay, that's it?" Dean asks, his eyes still trained on Laine for an unknown reason.

"You gotta burn the body afterwards, or the spirit of the Aswang will come back to haunt you." He states and Dean laughs, but quickly shuts up when he realizes that Bobby isn't pissing around about that part.

"Awesome, just awesome."

* * *

"Dean, is he following us?" I question as we walk out of the hospital and across the road towards the Impala. I spare a quick glance over my shoulder before climbing into the car, kicking my uncomfortable high heels off onto the floor and stretching my feet, groaning at the pleasurable sensation it was bringing.

"Who?" Dean looks over at me then at the building we were just in, then back to me with a raised eyebrow. "The guy who gave back your phone?"

Nodding, I follow his gaze back to the grey building across the road. "Yeah, I just have a weird feeling." I mumble, averting my eyes and instead focusing on flipping through Dean's minuscule CD collection that was hiding in the dashboard cubby.

"You're being paranoid. He's just a guy." Dean states and who he was trying to reassure, I really have no clue.

"Dean, I'm going with my gut here. This guy seems like bad news." I reply, flicking my eyes up just as Dean looks over at me with a confused look.

"Fine, I believe you. Are ya gonna pick a CD or not?" He nods his head towards the black case in my hands and I shrug, flipping a couple more pages until I come to a stop at a _P!nk_ CD. Sliding it out of the plastic sleeve, I twirl it around my finger and hold it up for Dean to see.

"Nice music choice. I didn't know you had a thing for _Pink_." I tease and Dean gives me a hard look which automatically has me bursting into repressed giggles. "I'm not judging!"

"Some chick left it in my Baby and I just never got rid of it." He states without meeting my eyes, instead looking out the opposite window when we stop at a red light. Shrugging at his failed attempt to lie to me, I pop the CD into the CD player and wait for it to start playing.

"I thought you didn't let people mess with your music in the Impala." I point out, looking over to my left to gauge Dean's reaction. His mouth opens and he starts to say something along the lines of 'I don't', but he stops himself and sends me a very unpleasant look. "Exactly." I snigger, shoving Dean on the shoulder in a playful manner and also to get him to start driving again since the light was now green.

"Shut up." Dean mutters darkly, shoving me back as we start driving again with So What filling the unused space in the car.

I quietly mouth out the words to the chorus, only stopping my mini concert when something Bobby said earlier flashes back into my mind. "I think we need to go grocery shopping."

Dean looks over at me for a moment before turning back to the road. "Why?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"We gotta get ourselves some garlic."

* * *

We had proceeded to go to the nearest store to pick up some garlic cloves, and Dean didn't complain once. It was astounding. When we got back to the motel room, we quickly got to work getting the specifications to kill the Aswang ready.

While Dean was taking a bathroom break, I took the chance to sneak out and get a breath of fresh air. Before leaving the motel room, I made sure to stuff my gun in the back of my pants, hiding the bulge with my jacket, and grab a twenty out of Dean's wallet. I close the door behind me as quietly as I can, turning around and making my way down the strip of concrete that lead to the convenience store just down the street.

It is a short walk and there were only a few cars going by me, considering that it was the middle of the day and most people were working and also we were located in the outermost edges of the city. I reach the store after a few minutes, pushing the door open and listening to the ding of the bell above the door. The woman working the counter greets me when I walk in and I return it with a smile as I make my way towards the back where the chocolate bars were.

Scanning the aisle, I finally find my kryptonite: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Grabbing three off the shelf, I grasp them securely in my hand as I walk towards the drink section. I open one of the glass doors and reach inside, pulling out a lemonade mineral water and holding the bottle in my free hand. As I make my way towards the till, I take another sweep down the candy aisle, snatching up a bag of sour candies for Dean. Might as well be nice.

I head to the till and place my items on the counter, letting the lady ring them up. I hand her the money, take the change and the plastic bag when she offers it to me. With a farewell, I push the door open and step outside, walking around the corner of the building. I get to walk a few steps before a weird sensation creeps up my spine, making its way up my neck and into my hairline.

Throwing a look over my shoulder, I see no one, but still remain on guard. I place one foot in front of the other, continuing on my way back to the motel, resisting the urge to break out into a full blown run. If I did that, then whoever was following me – if there even was someone – would know that I knew they were there and it just would not end good. Better to just play naive and hope for the best.

I walk past a dimly lit alley when I hear a hushed whistle echo from down the tight area. Peering down into its dark depths, I try to make out any moving shapes, but just see dumpsters and other junk littered around the alleyway. Shaking my head to clear away my paranoia, I try to start walking but find myself unable to do so. Fear creeps up inside me again and I whip around, coming face to face with the guy from earlier.

"Who are you?" I hiss, stepping backwards in an attempt to gain some distance, but he just follows my movements with his own advances.

"Nothing, really." He shrugs, staring at me with something deadly in his features. My free hand slithers behind me and into my pants, but before I can get a clean grasp on my gun, I am being pushed into the alleyway, hands clawing at my shoulder and holding me against the wall.

I struggle against the grip in futility, only gaining a rough shove into the brick wall, my head smashing against the surface. My vision swims and I shake my head, trying to clear the image of two men from my eyes. The attacker takes this as a chance to chuckle, moving his body closer to mine, his face becoming crystal clear.

"You know, when I first saw you, I knew there was something different about you. You just smelt so much better than those other humans, you smelt different." He mumbles, voice low and raspy, as he strokes a hand down my hair and across my jaw, cupping my chin with force. "I don't normally go for people like you, but you're just too tempting to resist."

Instead of voicing any reply, my eyes dart around the surrounding area, looking for some way to escape. My back is plastered flush against the wall, the bulk of the gun digging forcefully into my spine, and I'm not able to move an inch for the guy is pressing his weight upon me, restricting my movements. A sharp tug on my chin has my gaze moving up to meet his, the iris of his eyes a shining, icy blue. Twisting my chin out of his grasp, I recoil when a hand smacks across my face, whipping it to the side and connecting the side of my head with the building.

"Don't make me hurt you." He hisses, fixing that chilling stare on me again. "I've been asking myself this over and over again, but I can't come up with any answer. Maybe you could help me." He murmurs, stroking the cheek that he had struck, nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck.

He snuffles at my neck, raising goosebumps across my arms and neck. "What?" I grind out, twisting my wrists at odd angles to try and struggle free. My captor must have realized this, for his hands move from my shoulders and down to my wrists, pinning them at my sides, sharp pricks digging into my skin.

He inhales deeply, the sensation unpleasant and bile rises in my throat, but I push it back down, focusing on the task at hand. "What are you?" He murmurs, nuzzling my neck. "Why do you smell so delectable?"

Moments pass and he was still feeling at my neck, his tongue darting out every few seconds, only lingering for a touch, but it made me flinch each time. His grips loosen a fraction of an inch, like my scent was driving him so mad that he was forgetting what he was doing. This was my chance; it was either now or never.

Putting all my strength behind this one moment, I manage to knock my head against his and shove him back a few paces, giving me a good few seconds head start. I take it, instantly breaking into a full sprint down the alleyway, my feet thundering on the pavement as I try to see straight enough to not topple over. A jab in my neck has me doing just that.

I barely have time to register anything before I am sent crashing down to the ground, my head and chest getting the brunt of it as a heavy weight sets itself down on my back. Tingles shoot through my body and my limbs get heavy like lead, glued to the spot on which they had landed. I try tilting my head to move it from the concrete, but the weight on my back, and whatever other force baring down on my body, restricts me.

Scalding breath fans across my face, casting a stench of flesh and rot. All the feeling slips from my body and I lay there motionless, even unable to open my mouth. The only thing I can do is bat my eyes open and closed, but that isn't enough to save my life. A snap of bone has me screaming silently, whimpering at the pain of my rib popping out of place, maybe even breaking under the tension.

"I may not be able to do much during the day, but I still can kill you while you lay here unable to stop it. What a sad death this will be for you." He snickers, grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back and into agonizing angles. Another soundless bellow tears up my throat, but stays trapped, unable to resound throughout the alley to alert someone of my struggle. If only I could scream.

"This would be much easier if you would stop struggling. Let the poison takes its course, and all this will be over before you know it." I try to scream again, this time more out of pleading for help rather than pain or fear, but still no sound comes out. I know I am going to die, but what is one more shot at a plea for help? It wouldn't do me any good, or harm me anymore than what was happening now.

I can't feel anything anymore, not even the pain of my broken bones, and my eyes are drooping shut. I can feel my heartbeat slowing, my breathing becoming laboured and shallow. I'm dying, I can feel it happening. It's over, it's all over.

"Good, now just re-" His voice sputters out from above me, and something warm drips onto my cheek and neck, and I swear that I feel the graze of a blade on my back, but I could be imagining things.

Just as my eyes are finally closing, easing my pain, the weight on my backside is lifted off and I am left with the feeling of being on a cloud. There is a voice ringing in my ears, and it is vaguely familiar. It's warm, and sweet, and... safe.

I am picked up, tugged into someone's arms delicately and cuddled to their chest, hands stroking my face and hair and arms. The last thing I remember seeing before I fall into the darkness is green.

Green eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello again, how is everyone? I hope you all had a wonderful week and are having great days! I apologize for the late update, but here it is. Please let me know what you think and I hope that you enjoy it. Also a big thank you to all the people who follow this or add it to their favourites. It really means a lot. I know I may have already said this, but it is true. I love each and every one of you. :) Anywho, please enjoy.**

**-Ace**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Waking to New Enemies**

It is all silence around her as she slowly begins to come to. If she listens close enough, she can faintly make out the sound of the radio and flies buzzing, but that is only if she truly concentrates. Her head is heavy, her eyes heavier, but she manages to push them open nonetheless. Blinding light fills her vision, and she blinks away the black stars that appear before her eyes, the wood roof the first thing she sees once her vision clears.

She struggles to sit up, and when she does, a wave of nausea sweeps over her in one motion. Fighting the urge to just lay back down, she throws her legs over the edge of the bed as best she can while scanning the room in search of something to quench her thirst.

Her throat feels like a desert, almost as if she hadn't drank anything in days, but that can't be possible; she was only out for a couple hours, right? Her gaze quickly zeroes in on a couple water bottles placed carefully on the dresser directly across the room. Standing up on wobbly legs, she trudges over to the dresser, a slight gimp to her walk. She must have injured her leg or something, she can't quite remember.

Scooping up one of the bottles, she unscrews the cap and slings back the liquid, gasping in pleasure at the relief that the water brings. In moments, she is finished the first bottle, moving onto the next. Instead of chugging this one back, she sips at it and slowly makes her way out of the room she is in.

She takes in her surroundings, establishing that she is back at the cabin, as she shuffles along the cold floor, down the couple stairs and towards the door. There is no one in the cabin, and she can faintly hear voices and maybe even the cackle of firelight coming from outside. The night air is brisk against her bare legs and arms as she walks off the porch, the soft grass tickling her feet as she follows the sounds which would hopefully lead her to her boys. Sure enough, there they are; sitting in lawn chairs and gathered around an open fire, talking softly amongst themselves. Her footsteps are muffled by the grass underneath her feet, but as she gets closer, Dean lift his head, catching her eyes.

He shoots up in the next instant, rushing over and grabbing her by the arms, looking over her with haste. "You shouldn't be out of bed. We've just finished getting the poison out of you, you should be resting." He explains, fussing over her unnecessarily. She manages a weak toothy grin as Bobby and Sam stand up from their chairs, making their ways over to her at a much slower pace.

"Dean's right, kiddo. You should be in bed." Bobby chastises, resting a comforting fatherly hand on her cheek. She nudges into the calloused palm, looking over at Bobby with thankful eyes.

"No one was in there, and I was wondering where you guys were." She states, letting the boys escort her back towards the cabin, even allowing them to go as far as holding the door open and herding her back to the bed she was previously in. It was Dean's bed, now that she actually looked at it.

Climbing back onto the flattened mattress, she scoots her feet under the comforter, pulling it up to her stomach. Sam is resting on the wall, Bobby is sitting on the end of the bed and Dean is moving around in the kitchen. Rubbing a hand through her hair, she directs her attention to Bobby who is watching her with calculating eyes.

"What happened? How long was I out for? When did we get back here? Is that guy dead?" All the questions spill out of her at once, and Bobby holds up a hand to stop the flow of words from her mouth.

Taking another sip of water, she waits for Bobby to answer her questions – or at least one of them. "You were poisoned by the Aswang, who is now dead thanks to Dean." Bobby explains and she nods, taking another sip from the bottle.

"You've been out for about nine days. We didn't think you were going to wake up." Dean states when he comes back into the room, a mug of something in his hands. "Drink this. It will make sure all the toxin is out of your body."

Grasping the offered cup in shaky hands, she raises it to her lips, gulping back the mildly warm liquid. She almost gags at the tangy taste, but slugs it back with determination, quickly finishing off the last drops. She hands the mug back to Dean, using the back of her hand to wipe at her mouth. "What did I miss?"

"One hunt and we brought home a new pet." Sam's the one to answer her this time, and she almost laughs at the last part, but her still dry throat prohibits it.

"What? Who?" She questions, her gaze whipping between the three boys.

Bobby shrugs, patting her leg tenderly, motioning for her to lay down on the bed. "We'll fill you in on everything tomorrow, for now just get some sleep." Bobby suggests in a more ordering than suggesting tone while pulling the blankets up to her shoulders. With a final pat on the cheek, he ushers the boys out of the sleeping area and out of the cabin, the small house falling silent immediately.

Closing her eyes, she wills herself to sleep, and soon enough, she is drifting through the pleasant sea of dreams.

* * *

When she wakes again the next day, it is just past nine o'clock in the morning and again, the cabin is quiet. She stays in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes. To her left, there is a chair sitting not two feet from the bed and placed on the seat of the chair is a large glass of water and a plate with three Reese's Peanut Butter Cups on the porcelain surface.

A small grin forms on her face as she throws the blanket off her body, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Reaching out, she grabs one of the cups, tugs off the wrapper and pops it into her mouth. She chews the chocolate treat slowly as she gets up and hobbles over to her bag with her clothes. She pulls out a pair of baggy sweats and a grey tank top, slipping them on her body as fast as she could manage.

Before exiting the sleeping area, she swipes up the remaining peanut butter cups and water, skillfully unwrapping the cup with her teeth. She washes down the chocolate and peanut butter with a long drink of water, making her way towards the kitchen counter where there is a note tapped to the surface. Her finger follows the words as she reads them in her head; the boys have went into town to pick up a few things and they will be back in a couple hours, telling her to sit tight.

She turns around and moves over to the quaint table, removing the wrapper from the last cup. Just as she is shoving the tasty treat into her mouth, a cough from downstairs stops her mid motion, her hand poised at her mouth. She quickly shoves the candy in her mouth, chewing slowly, as she stands up, eyes completely trained on the stairs leading to the basement.

With slow and deliberate steps, she tip-toes down the wooden stairs, trying to be as silent as possible as she travels to the basement. Ducking her head, she peeks through the railing of the stairs and her eyes land on a man sitting chained in a chair, his head lolled to one side. She hesitates for a moment, but her curiosity gets the best of her and she finds herself moving forward because of it.

The floor is cold beneath her feet, her footfalls tapping against the concrete as she shuffles closer to the man on the chair. His chest is moving, albeit almost undetectable, but she can faintly hear little puffs of air coming from him. Her eyes scan the small area and land on a table that is littered with weapons and other supernatural deterrents.

Her eyes still trained viciously on the man, she snatches up one of the knifes into her hand, resuming her path to the chair, now armed. His head twitches upwards and she freezes, gripping the knife tighter until her knuckles turned ghostly. He stills again and she inches closer, until she is merely a few feet away – still within a safe distance to attack if need be, but not too close.

As if he can sense her presence – which he probably can – his head begins rising, eyes opening to focus on her. Laine watches through squinted eyes, following his movements as he rolls his shoulders, a blue flicker of electricity sparking under his skin before it disappears entirely and he fully looks up. His eyes lock with hers and a devilish grin forms on his mouth. "Well, you're new." He exclaims, still grinning at her.

Her eyes narrow dangerously, the knife at the ready by her side. "Who are you?" She questions, moving back a couple paces, just to distance herself from him. This must be the pet that Sam was talking about.

"It doesn't matter who I am, but who you are." He states, with a half-shrug through his shackles and chains. "If I had to guess, I would say that you are Laine Everett."

The knife in her hand is now thrown across the room, landing precisely where his heart is. "How do you know who I am?" She hisses, eyes widening to saucers when black blood oozes out from around the wound, and soon enough the blade was pushed out and sent clattering to the floor near his feet.

"Let's just say that someone I was inside knew a lot about you." He says, smirking when she growls lowly. "Why don't you ask your bunk buddies who I am?" He suggests just as the front door slams shut and footsteps can be heard from above.

With one last glance at the man in chains, she spins on her heel and books it up the stairs as fast as she can, skidding to a stop in front of Bobby. All three of them look at her with wide eyes, their gazes flickering between her and the basement stairs. "Who is that?" She gasps out, holding a hand to her side and another placed on the wall to steady herself.

Bobby's gaze narrows and he brushes past her, muttering a curse as he tramples down the steps. Sam and Dean follow him, leaving Laine standing there breathless and utterly confused. "Ass holes." She mutters before trailing after them, determined to get answers.

* * *

After the boys had explained to her what Leviathans were and what exactly they have been dealing with, she had went and sat down on the couch, flipping aimlessly through the few channels they got up here. The boys were all downstairs, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet; well, until thundering footsteps rushed upstairs and they were demanding the remote.

When she hands it over with much grumbling, the channel is switched to the news and her attention pricks as she listens to what the reporter is saying. According to the reporter, Sam and Dean are mass murders and wanted by the state of California.

Sam and Dean aren't too happy by that, and they head out immediately to try and find their impostors so they can dispose of them. That left her alone in the house with Bobby and the leviathan named Chet.

A couple hours later, she gets to meet Sheriff Jody Mills. She is a kind woman with a darker side, but that makes Laine like her all the more. The two immediately hit it off and spend the next few hours talking as she bustles around the cabin in an attempt to straighten it out.

"How do you know Bobby?" Laine questions as Jody is wiping down the counters.

She drops the rag on the counter top, turning around to face Laine while wiping her hands on her jeans. "It wasn't up until a few years ago that I actually got to know him, before that he was just another guy in Sioux Falls." She states as she walks past Laine and over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water that she had brought with her.

Laine nods, accepting the water and taking a long drink out of it. She still isn't feeling one hundred percent, but she is close to it, yet Bobby still won't let her go with the boys until she is in tip-top condition again. So, until then, she is stuck at the cabin to go stir crazy.

"How do you know him?" Jody asks after a beat of silence. Laine's eyes dart up to meet Jody and she shrugs, hoisting herself up so she could sit on the space of counter that Jody hadn't touched yet.

"I've known him since I was little. My whole family are hunters, and my uncle knows Bobby. Until I was old enough to start hunting, my uncle would leave me with Bobby when he took me along with him. That's how I met Sam and Dean, too. Bobby is like extended family, he's pretty much a father to me." She explains, her head ducking and her gaze fixing on the cap of the water bottle in her hands.

"Oh." Jody breaths out after a few moments. The two fall into silence, and Laine can feel the uncomfortableness start to fill the air.

With a sharp inhale, Laine jumps off the counter, landing on her still weak legs. "I'm gonna go see how Bobby is doing." Laine mumbles before walking outside and around the side of the house where Bobby is working on the red Mustang.

Walking over to him, she taps on the body of the car, signaling her presence. Bobby's head pops out from under the hood, peering around the edge of the vehicle to see Laine approaching. "What's up?" She questions as she leans against the hood, looking down at the engine. It was looking pretty nice, way better than what it had been when he had started working on it.

"Almost got the engine cleaned up and ready for use, just a few more touches and she should be able to run good as new." Bobby admits, wiping his greased hands on the dirty rag laying next to the engine.

"She's looking good." Laine praises, running a hand over the smooth varnish. They were painting the body red to cover up the peeling black paint, and so far, they only had the hood and the doors to finish.

"Good, 'cause she's for you." Bobby states, grinning kindly over at Laine. Her eyes widen in shock as her mouth falls open, silently asking Bobby if he was serious. Bobby just laughs and nods, closing the hood of the car. "Dean told me about your truck, and this was just laying around, so I though I would fix 'er up for ya."

Laine smiles and crushes herself into Bobby's side, getting a one-armed hug in return from him. "Thanks, Bobby." She mumbles as she pulls away, the two walking side by side back to the house.

"It's nothin'." He insists. "Let's go check on the chomper, yeah?"

* * *

"Bobby, can I kill him?" I hiss, glaring in the general direction of where our captive is being held. He must have heard me for a bark of laughter resounds from the basement, followed by a sassy remark of how I can't.

Bobby sighs and runs a hand over his head, giving me an exhausted look. "Once we find out how, you can have the honour." Bobby grumbles, chugging back the beer in his hand. A groan slips from me as I down the rest of my drink, placing the empty bottle alongside the many other brown glass bottles.

We have been trying different methods on Chet, but none have been working so we decided to have a drink. Or a few. Jody wasn't here to stop us – she had went to town to grab some things for dinner – and Bobby is just downing the case the of beer in the fridge, feeding me the alcohol as well.

"Can I at least carve him up into tiny bits?" I ask with a hopeful grin, only to be shut down when Bobby shakes his head and stalks out of the room, heading in the direction of the stairs to the basement. Racing after him, I almost turn back in anger when I see Chet smirking broadly at me.

"How's my little pumpkin doing today?" He greets, cocking his head slightly to the left. "Piss off before I cut your tongue out." Bobby gives me a look to tell me to calm myself, and I do as I am told, opting to lean against the stone wall and glare silently from there.

Chet grins before turning to watch Bobby for a few seconds, turning back to me soon after. "You know, I think you're going to be a delicious treat when I eat you." He taunts and I feel a snarl building up in my throat. Ever since he woke up this morning, he has been rubbing me the wrong way at every chance he has gotten. That's not to say I haven't gotten in my fair share of jabs and assaults, both verbal and physical.

Speeding over to the table Bobby was standing next to, I grab one of the longer blades and spin it into my hand, practically jumping across the room towards Chet and grabbing him by the chin. With a shove of his chin upwards, I jam the blade cleanly through his neck, leaving it there as I stand back to look down at him. Black goo spurts from the wound and he gags every few seconds, the goo spilling out of his mouth when he coughs. "Suck on that." With another sharp shove of the blade to lodge it deeper, I spin on my heel and stomp towards the stairs.

I get to the top and hastily head over to my bag, ripping the zipper open and reaching in to grab some workout clothes. When I am frustrated, and I need to burn off some energy, running is always a good outlet for me. Heading into the bathroom, I change into shorts and a tank top in record time, stopping to grab my iPod before strolling over to the door.

Opening it, I go to head out, but stop and call out 'Going for a run', as an afterthought down to Bobby. As I walk outside and into the crisp fall air, I jam my headphones into my ears and scroll through my music, clicking on an upbeat playlist. I start out with a brisk walk as I make my way towards the hiking trail that I had found the day we had first arrived here.

I let myself get lost in the music and the calmness of the surrounding area as I navigate the forest with ease, only paying half a mind to where I was going. It is easy to just lose myself when I am running, easily falling into a delicate rhythm of one foot in front of the other, breathing in and out steadily in time with my movements. Nothing can ruin this high I am getting myself on.

Taking a left on the trail, I dodge a fallen tree branch and find myself running alongside a creek. I slow my pace down to a walk, removing my buds from my ears and shutting my music off; what harm could a little rest do? While walking towards the stream of fresh water, I slip my shoes off by pushing on the back of the heels, leaving them discarded in the grass as I step into the crisp coolness of the water.

A low moan escapes my lips as I wade through the water, crinkling my toes in the sand while trying to avoid stepping on the small rocks scattered around. Walking farther up stream, the water gets shallower and it becomes more rock than sand. I take to stepping strategically across the slippery boulders, jumping from one to another with skill. I get closer to the top of the slope the stream is traveling down and stop when I catch sight of a doe grazing in the grass up ahead.

Crouching low, I watch as she makes her way slowly across the forest ground, only lifting her head every few moments to sniff about the air. Luckily, she doesn't notice my presence and I am able to continue watching her with curious eyes. These creatures were so innocent, out here all alone and secluded from the horrors of the world that lay outside of the canopy of trees. They are naive to what the world is capable of, safe in these bubbles of pure nature.

A snap of twigs to my left sets me and the deer off, the doe immediately running off into the trees and I jumping into a defensive stance. I instinctively reach for my knife, but remember that I didn't bring one with me which was a stupid decision. Whipping around, I see nothing but the trees around me. A whistle off to my left catches my attention, and I am spinning around as fast as I can to see what was there. This time, instead of nothing, there is a man standing there.

His body is clad in a tailored black suit and red tie, with hair cropped short to his head and just a hint of stubble dusting his cheeks and jaw. His hands are dug deep in his pockets and he has the slightest touch of a smirk on his lips. "Hello, darling." He speaks, his voice laced with a thick English accent.

"Who are you?" I question, eyeing him suspiciously. I didn't hear anyone walk up, and no one followed me, so either he's extremely sneaky or he popped up out of thin air.

"Call me Crowley," He starts, taking a step towards me. "And you must be Laine." By now, he is only a few paces from me and my hackles are raised to the nines, figuratively speaking.

My eyes narrow at his statement, my senses running from 'threat, be careful' to 'kill threat or run'. I really wish I had my knife or gun with me now, but I just had to conveniently leave them back at the cabin. "How do you know who I am?" I ask while resisting the urge to step back when he steps forward; if I did that, he would take is as a sign that I am afraid of him, and I'm not.

"I pride myself in knowing everything I can about my enemies, and since you are with the Winchesters, you are a possible threat." 'Crowley' explains with a shrug of his shoulders, smirking at me with pearly white teeth. "But, I must say, you are much more beautiful than what my lackeys were letting on."

I fight the blush that is threatening to rise on my cheeks, instead placing a hard scowl on to my face. "What are you?" I demand, my mind sifting through scenarios of how this encounter could go, and coming up with plans on how to escape each of them, hopefully unscathed.

"I would classify myself as a business man." Crowley states with a shrug, dancing to the left to avoid stepping in something dark on the ground. My eyes stay trained on him for every second, not straying from their target, as my mind skirts through the possibilities of what supernatural entity he could be.

Soon realizing that the easiest test would be to see if he is a demon, I mutter a soft 'Cristo', and almost smirk when he flinches ever so slightly. "Demon, really?" I ask, raising an eyebrow in Crowley's direction.

He chuckles, barely two steps from me. "I'm not just any demon, sweets. I'm the King of Hell." He states and I laugh at this, earning me a pointed look.

"I thought you said you were a business man?"

Crowley nods and stops advancing when my eyes dart down to the ground, an almost growl bubbling in my chest, before darting back up with a warning look. Good, he knows how to listen. "I am, still. You see, before I was King, I was just the King of the Crossroads." He explains and I nod, absorbing the information for future reference and it's just an interesting fact to put under Crowley's name.

"So, you became King when Lucifer went back down again?" I enquire as I spin around, slowly making my way back to where I left my shoes. I make sure that Crowley is following me – which he is – before picking up my pace and continuing further, still not letting my senses drop for a second.

I remember when Lucifer rose – it was chaos. Demon sightings sky rocketed and it became even harder for me to try and avoid getting involved in the hunting life again. When it was all over though, I was more than thankful that things could go back to being somewhat normal, or at least how they used to be the few months before the start of the Apocalypse.

"You're a quick one. Much better than those three half-wit hunters." Crowley states, his thick voice sounding a few feet from behind me.

"I pride myself on being well versed in learning everything I can about my enemies, and since you are a demon and the King of Hell, you are a threat." I recite my own take on his previous words, and it earns me a chuckle and a small nod of what looks like approval.

Slipping on my shoes, I watch as Crowley stops next to an oak tree, leaning lightly against the trunk. "You could be a leader, you know. There is potential in you." He points out, staring at me with those eyes that send shivers up my spine. I can tell that he is trying to get under my skin, and I am trying just as hard to not let him succeed.

"Well, I am flattered, but I don't deal with the Devil." I reply in a sharp tone, hardening my stance so my muscles are tense and ready to pounce at any sudden offensive movement from the demon in front of me.

"Darling, I'm not the Devil, so you would only be making a deal with a King." Crowley says with a grin and a tilt of his head in a suggesting manner.

Shaking my head slightly, I wrap my headphones around the bulk of my iPod. "I would say that it was nice to meet you, but I don't like to lie." I shrug, watching with curiosity as his face shifts for a moment into something unreadable before falling back into that casual suave expression it has held since he first showed up. "Goodbye, Crowley."

With that, I twirl around and begin walking back towards the trail leading to the cabin. My foot crunches down on the beaten dirt path when Crowley's voice catches me in my tracks. "I knew your fathers, and your mother, too."

I stop dead, slowly turning to look over my shoulder with an utterly confused look on my face. "What did you say?" I croak out, my throat slowly closing in on its self. Fathers? What did he mean? I only had one father, and I never even knew him.

"Your fathers." He restates and his eyes widen when I give him a confused, tilting towards furious, look again before it turns into a grin. "Oh, no one told you? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your mother wasn't an innocent little hunter. Well, not that she remembered any of this, but she was a naughty girl. She dealt with the Devil, as you put it."

I don't even have the time, or the will, to get any words out before Crowley is spewing out more of what I am hoping are lies. "You should ask your aunts, they know everything. Maybe ask Bobby, he might know." Crowley shrugs. "This has been lovely, but I must be going. Maybe next time, you will know more. Laine, it was nice to make your acquaintance and I hope that we will meet again. Good day, my sweet." He bows his head slightly, snapping his fingers and disappearing in that same instant.

If there hadn't been a tree next to me, I swear I would have tumbled to the ground for my limbs have turned to complete jelly. What was Crowley going on about? My fathers? And my mother, what did she have to do with this? If all this confusion wasn't enough, the burning sensation that shoots through my stomach is more unwelcome now than most times.

Lifting my shirt, I see the engravings along my pelvis thrumming with a dull golden light, the Enochian symbols glowing furiously with white-hot pain. I place my hand atop the markings, rubbing my fingers across the raised flesh in an attempt to sooth the fire under my skin. Just as the burning subsides on my lower engravings, the ones on my neck start up, their burning sensation even more intense than the ones of my lower region.

I double over in pain, holding my neck tightly, gripping it with white knuckles. My bottom lip is pulled into my mouth to stop the sounds that are ripping up my chest and clawing to get out. Another wave of pain hits me in both places where my engravings are, my teeth tearing through my lip and digging deep, blood spilling into my mouth. The scream that rips out of my mouth slices through the silence of the forest, birds immediately lifting off at the terrible sound.

I feel myself falling to the floor of the forest, curling into a tight ball in an attempt to stop the pain. I need to get back to the cabin, but I can barely lift myself off the ground, let alone make the hour long trip back to the cabin; in this state, I won't make it two feet before I collapse.

The last thing I remember doing is exactly that, collapsing entirely and falling into a hazy state filled with screams and horrible noises, all coming from me. I was alone, in the middle of nowhere, and there was no way I was going to escape this Hell.


End file.
